To Kiss A Thief
by Witchy Bee
Summary: AU: He really was a bad influence on her. Jenji thought she'd left that life behind when she was Conscripted into the Grey Wardens. But what happens when she reaches Ostagar only to see a familiar face?
1. Matinee

_"A habitual disuse of physical forces totally destroys the moral; and men lose at once the power of protecting themselves, and of discerning the cause of their oppression."_

_- Joel Barlow_

It was tradition, in the Alienage, not to formally name one's child until he or she had survived their first outbreak of plague. It could take months, or days. In this case, it took ten years.

In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't a very good tradition.

The elven child begged her mother to take her outside and train in combat as they did everyday, but the woman refused. People were rioting in the streets and it was too dangerous for young children. Even Adaia - a former Dalish huntress - could not be sure she could protect her daughter as she aged and the inadequate living conditions of the Alienage took their toll on her. She stayed out of love, love for her family. The Dalish were supposed to pity the elves who had submitted to human rule, but Adaia just couldn't bring herself to have such contempt towards her own kin.

The elves had lost so much, they couldn't afford to fight amongst themselves like mere shemlen.

When she had first arrived at the Alienage after leaving her clan, people had not looked kindly upon her. They had been so dreadfully misinformed about the Dalish, told they were savages by their elders all in hopes of preserving their culture as elves of the city. After all, instilling pride in a prisoner is only really possible by assuring them it could be a lot worse. That at least here, they had some dignity, some hint of a civilized lifestyle and a strong roof over their heads.

But as it were, Adaia's people had been misinformed about the Alienage elves as well. They were good, caring folk with a strong sense of community, and even though they may have given up much of what it meant to be an elf they had built something new with what they had. They were less like the shemlen than she had ever imagined; Especially Cyrion...

Evenually, after the birth of the child who now clung to her arm, a mass of dark hair hanging in her eyes, the Alienage's people begun to accept her as their own. And even though Adaia did miss the allure of the wilderness that had been her home, she had a duty to protect these people and remind them who they really were.

And when Adaia saw the human guards that had entered the gates cutting down innocent people whose only crime was fear for their lives, she decided she had to do something. So she took up her strange curved blade that she had promised to give to her daughter when she came of age, and went for the door.

As she placed her hand on the doorhandle however, a much smaller one grabbed it first. Adaia looked down to see her child with tears in her eyes.

"Don't, Mamae, please." The girl bagged, her tiny voice full of sorrow.

She knelt down and pushed a strand of black hair from her daughter's eyes. "I have to, Da'len, and I need you to be strong."

"Can I come with you?" She asked. Her mother smiled, proud of her daughter's courage.

"No, dear girl, you need to stay here with your father. Do not be afraid: the Gods go with me." She hugged the child tightly.

And then she was gone.

The little girl pressed her cheek to the splintering wood of the door until her heart stopped racing. "Maker, watch over her." she muttered.

That night she was sent to bed early, and she thought she'd done something wrong. Was Father angry that she had insisted on going with Mamae? No, there was only saddness in his eyes. Her mother hadn't returned and Cyrion had gone out, too. He'd been gone for hours and she wondered if she had been _really_ bad and they didn't want her anymore, but didn't want to bother with taking her to the orphanage or just abandoning her on the streets of Denerim. She peeked outside the door, but the Alienage was silent and there was a strange scent in the air; like freshly turned soil and steel.

And she wondered, briefly, if the plague had got them all.

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But by morning Cyrion had returned, bringing with him a myriad of relatives and family friends and others who seemed to know her and she couldn't quite place names to their faces that filled their small home. She thought she could see soemthing behind their smiles.

A day came when the last of the sick were either cured or dead, and it was finally safe to be out in the sun again. This meant it was finally time for her Naming. Her mother had been gone for a fortnight and she asked after her every evening before she went to bed, recieving the same answer from Father - "Goodnight, my little girl." - and silence from the Maker.

She'd been taught by the Chantry that people were all born of the Maker, no matter what race you are, and that the Maker will listen if you have faith in Him. But Adaia had insisted this was not so, and that instead, elves were made by the Creators. She told her daughter this, and the little girl figured her mother was just special and that it had taken more than one god to forge her. So the girl prayed to the Gods to help their child now.

She remembered the intracate markings on her mother's forehead, curving all the way down to her jawline and even on the bridge of her nose. She had said it was a symbol of Mythal the Protector, Goddess of Motherhood and Justice, and that someday, she could get a one like it if she wished. On days when the weather was fair the little girl would draw similar designs in the dirt with her finger, invisioning them in colored ink on flesh.

They named her Jenji, and it became clear to her that her mother wasn't coming back.

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As the years wore on, Jenji grew to know happiness. Her childhood had come to a grinding halt the day she got her name and was told of her mother's death, a warrior's death though it was. Cyrion was getting too old for the long hours of back breaking manual labor which was the only honest way other than begging an elf could earn any coin - though he would never admit it. And so, gradually she took up the role of provider. Soris and Shianni joined them every night for supper which Jenji somehow found time to prepare between a long day's work as head of the newly implemented 'Alienage guard' the hahren had instated.

Though not officially affiliated with the Denerim guard it did help to keep the streets safe and frankly Jenji wanted to reduce the frequency the city guard had to visit the Alienage. At least she was putting Mamae's training to some use. After supper, Jenji went out to her night job, which Cyrion disapproved of, but it kept the family afloat. There was no shame in what she had to do if it kept her people fed.

You'd be surprised the work one could scrape up with a swift pair of daggers and a careful hand. There were some things nobles just didn't need, and she was more than happy to balance the scales in her people's favor. And even though she knew in the depths of her heart that Adaia wouldn't approve, Jenji's commitment to preserving the Alienage was stronger than her regret.

But one day her father announced that she was to be married to a young elf from Highever, and Jenji was furious. In her mind, he was trying to get rid of her. He was ungrateful for everything she had done, everything she had sacrificed.

"But Father, haven't I proved my worth?"

"It has nothing to do with that. I want you to be happy. I want grandchildren someday, and even though I will never be able to thank you enough for putting your own life on hold for me, it is time for you to move on while you still can." He said in his usual soothing tone.

"But _this_ makes me happy, Father!"

"Working more hours a day than you get sleep makes you happy? Having to come home and look after your poor old dad makes you happy? Never getting to experience love and a family of your own and someone to take care of you for a change makes you happy?"

"Yes! This is my home, Father, this is my family. I don't need anything else, and I certainly don't need you paying off the first man who will have me as a wife!" Tears were running down her cheeks both in anger and despair.

"Jen, I worked very hard to find this match for you. Most women aren't so lucky, you either get paired with a lazy drunk or you die alone. I'm sorry, child, but that's the truth of it. We are a proud people but we are few and you should count yourself lucky to be alive right now." his voice was firm, but laced with saddness or..disappointment? And she knew he was thinking of Mamae. "It's what your mother would have wanted for you."

But she was just a child still and the fact that he would even speak of _her_ sent her into a blind fit of rage and anguish. She had never had her typical teenage rebellion, if she did her family would have perished, and so she had always held her tongue...until now.

"Oh please, Mamae would have taken me off to join the Dalish if it weren't for her love for you, and you know it!"

"And you sometimes wish that she had, don't you? Then she would be alive and you would be free." It was not a question, he knew the answer already.

The words slipped through her teeth and from her lips before she could stop them, "You killed her, Father!"

It was the first and only time Cyrion had ever had to strike his daughter.

Then she stormed off up the stairs to the small dark room that had been hers as a child and now was perfect for sulking, rubbing her still stinging cheek and uttering profanities under her breath. And the worst part was that she knew she deserved it and more for her disrespect.

And the topic didn't come up again until the day of the wedding had arrived.

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That was the day she decided her life was destined to be one tragedy after another, and she had no idea.

The scene unfolded before her like a well-rehearsed play, each person playing their rolls in such a convincing manner it looked almost real...because it was real.

Human nobleman enters, drunk and clearly gotten lost on his way to The Pearl. He makes a big mistake intruding on what should be the happiest day of her life and regards her kin as little more than animals.

ELEVEN MAIDEN: Let go of me!

MAN-WITH-DEATH-WISH: "It's a party isn't it? Grab a whore and have a good time!"

His voice is thick and smooth as silk: "Savor the hunt, boys. Take this little elven wench here, so young and vulnerable..."

But he underestimates Shianni: "Touch me and I'll gut you, you pig!"

Then all the voices meld together and Jenji is so angry she can't see straight.

"Please, my lord, we're celebrating weddings here!" Someone begs, but that only angers the human lord.

MAN-WITH-DEATH-WISH: "Silence, worm!"

SLAP!

Then Soris is saying something to her because he must have seen the look on her face and she doesn't even know what she replys but he is urging her to be diplomatic and all she can think is why should she when this human isn't exactly being so diplomatic himself? No, there will be blood from this, she is sure of it.

MAN-WITH-DEATH-WISH: "And here is the blushing bride, come to keep me company!"

"I will do not such thing, shemlen scum! As head of the Alienage guard I demand you leave at once!"

And the noble says the most awful things to her and she realizes she's utterly helpless for the first time in years. And Shianni - Maker bless her - sees an opportunity and she takes it.

MAN-WITH-DEATH-WISH: "Do you have any idea who I am?"

But before she can reply with something very clever and twice as insulting the man's disgusting grin vanishes and his eyes are suddenly that of a rabbit when it finds itself in the jaws of a rabid dog, and he crumples to the ground like a corpse hits a riverbank.

The brave elven maiden stands over him, clutching the broken bottle in her hand and shaking only slightly, a look of triumph and shock and fear on her face. Jenji can't help but smile.

One of the bastard's friends speaks up: "Are you insane? This is Lord Vaughan, the Arl of Denerim's son!"

Shianni's expression turns to just shock and fear, the bottle falls from her hands which fly to her face, she stares at the unconcius noble. And now she is the rabbit who has shamed the rabid dog, evoking the wraith of the entire pack upon herself. A rush of confidence takes over Jenji, and maybe it's because she wants to defend Shianni and repay her for saving her from that pathetic excuse for a man or maybe she just has some of her mother in her after all.

"Take him home, I think you've all quite worn out your welcome here." The man opens his mouth to say soemthing cruel in a futile attempt to show his dominance over her, but the elf cuts him off before he can: "And just imagine what we will do to you if you don't leave at once, because I can assure you it will much worse than the pounding headache your friend is going to suffer when he wakes up. I'm thinking something a little more...perminent to remind you we're not all as vulnerable as you think."

COWARD: "You've got some nerve, knife-ears! This will end badly for you."

But it's just words, and the nobleman knows there must be more glass bottles and twisted pieces of metal and maybe even some proper weapons about the elven slums. And soon the Alienage is free of humans once more, as it should be.

Jenji puts a hand on Shianni's shoulder to calm her, and Soris tries to convince her it will be all right. Jenji assumes the role of bride and successfully distracts her cousin with talk of the wedding, and soon Shianni is smiling and laughing and drinking again, especially drinking.

Intermission...

Now it was time for her to meet her supposed betrothed, whether she liked it or not.

"Are you insane?" Soris had said, and it seemed to be the question on everyone's mind. "What are you going to do? Run off and join the Dalish?"

"It could happen..."

Her betrothed wasn't necessarily unattractive, perhaps her eyes just saw what she wanted to see. They stood there and forced small talk while he flattered her with compliments that could have been said for any woman. He really wasn't anything special, but she figured it could be a lot worse. _He'd probably go for a few soverigns on the Tevinter slave market,_ she thought darkly, but dismissed the idea as Soris and his bride-to-be returned to release her from this torture. She had no specific plans yet, but she knew that she wasn't getting married even if it killed her.

"What is it, Soris?" She said sardonically. "What could possibly be so important that you would pull me away from conversing with my dream man? I mean I know it's bad luck for him to see me before the wedding but-"

"-We have another problem."

"What do you mean? Is it Vaughan? Has he returned?" She asked, serious once again.

"No, but you're close. Another human just walked in."

And indeed, Soris was right, that was certainly no elf.

Jenji was tired of humans, she wanted nothing more than to go home and burrow under the covers like a good little rabbit rather than stand against every shem who strode into the Alienage on her wedding day with some odd sense of entitlement just to make trouble.

And yet, this human seemed perfectly reasonable. He assured her he had no intention of using his massive shiny weapons, but that wasn't saying much considering Vaughan had also assured her he and his friends were only there for a party. People never say what they really mean.

"Please, ser, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We've had enough unpleasantness from your kind today." The human only smiled warmly at her. Was he mocking her? It wasn't like the twisted, depraved smile Lord Vaughan had given her: it was genuine.

"I am sorry, but I'm afraid I cannot do that. I have business here with your elder. But I can promise that I am not here to intrude on your festivities, my lady. Please, enjoy your big day, you have my congratulations." Jenji could hardly believe his words, with good reason of course.

"I don't want to have to force you to leave." Jenji warned, although it wasn't often a human wandered in claiming to be friends with the elder, she couldn't take that risk.

"My lady, I'm sure it has not escaped your notice that I am both armed and armored. Any fight between us would be rather one sided I'm afraid." Was he...? Did he actually find this amusing?

"I am no stranger to battle."

He chuckled. "Of that, I have no doubt."

"Do my old eyes deceive me? Duncan, my friend, it's been too long!" Valendrian exclaimed as he approached them.

"You really know this man, hahren?"

"Indeed, child. This is Duncan, leader of the Ferelden Grey Wardens! I've known him for more than twenty years now, though I can't say what brings him here of all places."

Jenji blushed. "Any friend of the elder's is welcome here," she said.

"I'm afraid the worst has happened, Valendrian, a Blight threatens the land to the south. A horde of darkspawn gather there and the king has called an army to fight it. Grey Wardens are needed now more than ever, but we are few in Ferelden, and I am seeking recruits." Duncan explained. The elder's expression changed from cheerful to concerned in an instant.

"I see...Well, Duncan, I don't know what to say, we are celebrating weddings after all..." The elf trailed off, deep in thought.

"I understand. When I heard that Adaia's daughter had not only lived, but was getting married, I had to see for myself." She was shocked, he had come for her? How could that be? She had heard tales of the Wardens before, of how they once rode griffins and chased the darkspawn back underground so long ago, but never had she dreamed...

"Ah, well I doubt you'll have much better luck convincing Cyrion to give up his only daughter on her wedding day than you did convincing him to give up his wife." Valendrian smiled.

"You tried to recruit my mother?" She asked, wondering why Father had never mentioned it before.

"Tried and failed." Duncan nodded. "I never made the offer, Cyrion insisted that I not put such ideas in her head. It seems she passed her knowledge onto you though."

"How do you know that?" She was a little curious and little alarmed.

"I know many things," he smiled again. "There are also very few who would stand up to a nobe and his men like that if they didn't have at least some skill in defending themselves."

Jenji Tabris looked away. "It had to be done," she stated.

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She asked the Warden a few more questions before Soris politely informed her it was time for the wdding to begin. A lump formed in her throat as she walked with her father under the shade of the vhenadahl.

The stage is set, and the play resumes.

"Good luck, Soris," she whispers.

"Good luck, Cousin," he returns.

Valendrian makes his speech: "Today we celebrate not only this joining, but also our bonds of kin and kind. We are a free people, but that was not always so. We must remember our bonds to each other and take what moments of joy we can in times of trouble. We are blessed with our freedom, the Alienage which protects us, and the close community we share. And as our community grows, we must remember this."

A priestess steps up and begins the ceremony, and the knot in the pit of Jenji's stomach tightens.

PRIESTESS: "In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light I-"

The man with a death wish, Vaughan, pushes through the crowd of elves, knocking people to the ground and joins the gathering on stage. This time he brings a troop of armored guards, probably just as drunk as he is.

PRIESTESS: "Mi'lord, I wasn't expecting..."

VAUGHAN: "Terribly sorry to interrupt, Mother, but uh, I'm having a party...and we're dreadfully short of female guests." He circles around the women, touching them, and rage flares up in Jenji's eyes once more.

PRIESTESS: "Mi'lord, this is a wedding!" For her part, at least she tried.

The noble laughs: "If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that's your business, but don't pretend this is a proper wedding."

Silence.

VAUGHAN: "We're just here for a good time, aren't we boys?"

One of his little friends pipes up: "Yep, just a good time with the ladies!"

Everyone is stricken with horror at the realization that there is quite simply nothing they can do, and that as the Arl's son, this is his right.

VAUGHAN: "Now, let's take the one in the tight dress, and...where's the bitch that bottled me?"

GUARD: "Over here, Lord Vaughan!" Shianni stays strong but Jenji can see the fear in her eyes, she knows what she must be thinking; _you said it would be all right, you promised..._

The elven maiden tries to fight, but that only entices the human lord further: "Ohh, I'll enjoy taming her!"

Jenji grits her teeth as not to scream out something she might regret, at least not right now, and Nelaros promises he won't let them take her. Which is a nice thought, but he's barely out of boyhood and hasn't been trained with a blade.

"I can handle myself."

"You shouldn't always have to."

VAUGHAN: "Ah, if it isn't the little lady from before. Have we changed our mind yet? Won't you join me for a little fun?"

NELAROS: "Leave her out of this, you feigns!"

VAUGHAN: "But how can I? Don't you worry, elf, I'll bring her back in one piece. Now if you'll kindly excuse us, the adults are talking here."

"Don't you dare touch me!"

The human lord shakes his head: "Such a pity, and you are a pretty one, too. I really hate it to have to come to this."

Jenji feels something hard and blunt collide with the back of her skull and she collapses. Her eyes catch sight of the great Tree's branches before it is replaced by Vaughan's wicked smile as he looms over her. Blackness overcomes her and she feels cold steel against her skin as she is lifted up by the arms of two of his guards. The same fate, she figures, befalling the other women.

Isn't that how it always goes? Comedies end in weddings, while in tragedies everyone dies. Jenji just isn't quite sure what to make of this.


	2. Strength

_"Vir Bor'assan: the Way of the Bow_  
_ As the sapling bends, so must you._  
_ In yielding, find resilience;_  
_ In pliancy, find strength."_

_- The Charge of Andruil, Goddess of the Hunt  
_

Shianni had a splitting headache, which she guessed Jenji would too when the elf regained consciousness. Valora was being too quiet and even though Shianni was frightened it did not mean she could ignore what had to be done. If only she knew what to do...

"Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker..."

Maker - the cause of her headache. Her name was Nola. It was just her, Jenji, Shianni herself, and another woman whose name Shianni didn't remember. She wanted to say it started with a 'D'...

"Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker protect us, Maker..." Nola continued, roking herself back and forth in the corner.

She had never been a particularly religious person, much like her cousin who hadn't attended chantry since she was thirteen and learned how to pick a lock well enough to make something of herself even if that something was a petty thief. Shianni could respect Andraste's teachings as much as the next person, but this...this just wasn't helping.

"Would you stop that? You're driving me insane!"

Just then Jenji began to stir from her place sprawled out on the floor. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up slowly, supporting herself with her elbows, staring down at her bloodied wedding clothes. _Well, she never did want to get married, at least not like this...I guess at least this puts it off for a little while..._Shianni couldn't help her natural tendency to see the silver lining, it was a valuable perspective when you lived in an Alienage.

"Cousin, thank goodness you've come to." She tried not to speak to loudly, for both their sakes. Still, Jenji's hand clutched her head where that bastard had struck her. He was stronger than he looked, but so was she. "How do you feel?"

Jenji actually considered her response. She almost shrugged but didn't, deciding instead to ignore the question completely.

"So...that human dies." She said, forcing a smile, but Shianni could tell what she was really thinking. She was not shocked, or even surprised. She was perfectly prepared to die for her people, and if she couldn't, then she would survive by any and all means. So far, Shianni only knew about the thieving.

Valora and the other women seemed to decide now was the best time to start panicking. Despite Shianni's attempts to calm them, they would have none of it. She knew this was wrong, and everything she stood for, everything she believed in told her so, but she also knew that the most practical approach to a situation like this was to give in. There would be a lot less elven blood spilled that way, and maybe it wouldn't even be as bad as she thought...What was she saying? Of course it would be.

"It will be worse if we fight it." Shianni said, ignoring the way her lips twitched with the words. She was lying to herself as much as she was to Valora. She believed in fighting. It was fight or flight, and there was no getting out of this. That left one option: submit.

"'Vir Assan - fly straight and do not waver, Vir Bor'Assan - bend but never break, Vir Adahlen - together we are stronger than the one. We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit.'" The words were soft, weak yet powerful in their meaning, as if fallen from broken lips.

"What?" Shianni knew her cousin was half Dalish but she never knew...

"It will be worse if we don't!" Valora argued, as if having not heard Jenji at all.

"Will it?" Jenji was looking directly at Valora, the elf became silent. "Worse for who exactly: You? Or the Alienage? Because the way I see it, we can take our chances unarmed against likely dozens of guards twice our size and probably end up dead or, if Vaughan shows mercy on us, the same fate as if we'd spread our legs and let it happen. The difference: one of them results in a few more dead humans; and a lot more dead elves while the other allows us to get home by supper." Shianni didn't think the little elf's eyes could get any wider, but Jenji wasn't quite done yet. "Because I don't know what life is like in the Alienage in Highever, Valora, but here we do what we have to for our people, even if _this_ is the price that must be paid."

It took Valora a moment to gather herself again. "But you just said...What about the Dalish? Never submit and-"

"-I'm not Dalish. The Dalish can keep running until there's nowhere else to go. We're stuck, we have priorities, responsibilities. We have a duty, and that includes you." The words were not meant as bitter or angry. They were spoken as a truth, and were ture enough Shianni thought.

Jenji got to her feet and walked over to one of the two doors in the small...storage room they had been left in. She soon realized her lock picks had been taken, judging by the look on her face, they'd even taken the pins from her hair, and after a minute of searching her usual hiding places she gave up and decided to try and break the lock instead.

"What are you doing?" The nameless woman asked in a meek tone, even for an elf.

"I'm not going to give our captors the advantage if I can help it." Jenji responded, not taking her eyes from her work.

"But you just said it is better if we-" Valora began.

"It is, but that doesn't mean we should waste an opportunity." She fiddled with the lock for a second more before she looked up suddenly, eyes narrowed. "Shit, they're here!" Jenji hurried back to the others before the door swung open. "Don't speak, do whatever they say, if you see an opportunity, take it, but just don't do anything stupid." She looked at Valora as she spoke.

The guards proved to be 'perfect gentlemen' all right. One of the women, Nola, the headache causing one, was dead. She'd proven herself more bold than Shianni had expected, resisting the guards, and now she was with the Maker. They dragged Shianni off, and she knew her fate was sealed. It was remarkable really how simply the conclusion came. All she could do was pray her cousin had a fighting chance. She had her mother's skill and strength and her father's wits, she'd be fine...right?

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The body wasn't even cold yet, and still she stepped over it, because there simply wasn't time to lose. Betrothed or not, what was important now was those she could save: Shianni, Valora, the girl she couldn't remember the name of. It was too late for Nola and now it was too late for Nelaros. Not that his was not a noble effort, stupid but noble. She just couldn't afford the distraction.

And she knew Soris must be thinking she was the most insensitive woman in all of Thedas right now. He took one last look at the elf's body and hurried to keep up the pace with Jenji. Nelaros had been his friend, the only other person in the world willing to risk their life to save a few elven women. And now he was dead. Soris was wondering why it hadn't been him. Maybe they'd even got to talking, maybe even talked about her...Oh Maker, she didn't want to think about that.

She took the ring, Soris hadn't noticed of course but she did. Maybe it did hold some sick sentimental value, or maybe it was just a thief's natural attraction to shiny objects she wasn't sure. But she took it and slid it into the pocket of the leather armor she'd taken from the armory.

One by one, they dared to stand in her way, and one by one, they fell.

It was nothing like a play; blood was everywhere. She'd fought guards before but never like this. Innards spilled from their slashed armor so they looked like some kind of twisted half-human half-machine. The estate echoed with cries of pain which brought more guards, and she thought she might even have heard the muffled scream of a woman...

This was just the hunt: the trophy was Vaughan's head.

And he had the nerve to try and cut her a deal: forty, shiny, sovereigns in exchange for her silence. But if he thought she would accept perhaps it wasn't wise to leave Shianni to lay broken on the floor. Her lip was bleeding and there were tears running down her cheeks. Markings on her throat, all in various stages of turning black or blue or purple, but mostly black, and all the same width apart, just barely the size of a fingerprint.

She'd tried to fight. An odd jolt of pride and fear twisted itself into a knot in Jenji's stomach at the realization; Shianni had probably saved the other women from the same fate by doing so.

Vaughan and his pet nobles hit the ground with a cracking of bones, torn skin, and a gush of blood. There were arrows lodged in his abdomen, a rather nasty looking wound to the back of his head, and a deep cut the length of his throat. Not to mention the blade buried in his spine…

…All right, so maybe the last two wounds had occurred after he was already dead, accidents happen...

Jenji was proud.

She searched the room for those infamous forty sovereigns promised before, and found nothing. _Bastard..._

Jenji tore a piece of silk from one of the dead noble's shirts and dabbed the blood from Shianni's face.

"Abelas..." she whispered, certain that she must have a concussion since she was suddenly remembering the words to her mother's old songs.

"Don't...don't leave me...Please..." This wasn't Shianni, it wasn't _her_ Shianni anyway. "There's so much blood, Jen. I...I don't want...to look at it anymore."

"I know, Shianni. And I'm not going anywhere. Never again." She attempted a smile.

"Please...just...take me home...I want to go home!" Her eyes widened suddenly. "You...You did kill them all...didn't you?"

This time she did smile. "Like dogs, Shianni. I swear to you, I did what had to be done."

"Good." She shut her eyes tight and more tears escaped them. "Good." She repeated with a shaking breath and then a ghost of a smile. "You always do."

Soris and the other women entered the room. The women looked horrified, Valora especially. There was no look of 'I told you so' in her eyes, only pure terror. They were both picturing themselves in Shianni's place, and Jenji was wishing herself there.

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Jenji had never been more thrilled to leave a noble's estate. Most people in her line of work would give their right hand just to get inside. The irony did not escape her.

She was plagued with indecision.

When the guards entered the gates and demanded answers, she took the blame, accepting the prospect of her long awaited death. There was a reason Alienages only had one hahren after all.

When the Grey Warden Duncan stepped in however, she was half expecting he'd run her through himself or his face would morph into Vaughan's and he would finish what the bastard had started, or if not that, then it would turn into one of those dreams where she's suddenly naked in front of the entire Alienage or something.

But it didn't.

On one hand, she knew that her mother would have been proud to see her daughter become a Warden. And, as she'd told Valendrian, there was a whole big world out there. A world full of shiny things and sights the likes of which she'd never dreamed of. Even if she was going to fight in some shem war she didn't fully understand, it was a factor.

She didn't want to leave her home, when it came right down to it, and she found it hard to believe Duncan had actually spared her based on her skill or honor because everything she had ever been taught told her humans simply didn't do things like that.

But then there was the realization that she'd _have_ to leave her family. Soris would be fine, he had Valora and she supposed she couldn't really judge someone solely based on how they handled a crisis on their first day in a new and frightening place, engaged to a man they barely knew. Father would survive too. he wasn't pleased with her being Conscripted but he wasn't the sort to be quick to anger, she knew worry was at the root of it: worry that he would lose his only daughter just as he had lost his wife. It was the same worry that had kept him up at night while she braved the streets of Denerim.

The Alienage would make it as well, somehow. She didn't think much or Vaughan's threats to torch the place. After all he hadn't been prepared to keep his word about the money. Not to mention he hadn't crashed her wedding to have a 'party' either as he had promised. He wasn't the honest type.

Of all the people she knew would make it, Shianni...Well. Jenji just wasn't sure.

She knew she had to see her before she left the Alienage for what would likely be the last time, even if she wasn't sure she could face it: it was her duty.

It was time to leave before she could even get supper on the table. She was going to miss Denerim; her family, nice shiny silvers, the food - what little of it there was; this was her whole life. She knew enough about what people would expect of her and what she could expect of them, she wasn't stupid, and she'd learned enough of the harsh lessons of life that she began to think there wasn't anything else.

But now she had to bury those thoughts with the dead.

"Are you ready?" Duncan asked as they approached the gates of Denerim.

"I…" She opened her eyes. "Yeah, I'm ready."


	3. Friends

**A/N: **Because statistically, two out of every three people to attempt the Joining will survive. Unless of course they take it individually in which case they are guaranteed to survive, as proved in Awakening. Now, Jory's little stunt severely screwed up what fate had intended, wouldn't you agree?

)O(

_"A single rose can be my garden...a single friend, my world."_

Ostagar was…nauseating actually. Never had she seen so many people, so many shems, in one place before. Never had she imagined such a large and ancient structure such as this. An odd place for a battle she thought.

Frankly, she was still finding it difficult to believe she could even exist independently from the Alienage at all.

Jenji and Duncan spoke with the human king. He was a young and arrogant sort, arrogant enough to ask her all about the Alienage.

"There are many things you know nothing of, your Majesty." The king just smiled.

"Well, serving all the good people of Ferelden is no easy task, my lady. Please, enlighten me." He was too earnest in his intentions.

She fixed him with a pointed look. "Do you know what your lap dog does, your Majesty?" His smile faltered, confusion in his eyes. Duncan was frowning, knowing this could only go downhill from here.

"Usually, yes; why? Has something happened in Denerim that I have not been made aware of?"

"I killed an Arl's son for raping my cousin. He would have done the same to me had my betrothed not died trying to save me, and of course if I weren't so damned skilled with a blade. In fact, I daresay I should be dead right now; or worse." She took some odd pleasure in the horrified look on the king's face. She really wasn't sure what had possessed her.

"You….what?" King Cailan was speechless. "Maker, I-I don't know...what to say..."

"I am sorry, your Majesty." Duncan said, only a slight edge to his voice. "She has been through a lot recently."

"Yes...I see that now." The king cleared his throat. "I did not mean to be rude, my lady, I hope you can forgive me. I had no idea...At any rate, there's no need to apologize Duncan."

They spoke of news and shemlen nobles whom she hadn't killed. Duncan told her of some secret ritual. Then finally she was allowed to wander about the camp on her own. There travels had been long, and she was tired, hungry, and lost in a strange place she didn't understand.

It was quite the day really. She dug up some dirt on the foolish king, met this Loghain man everyone was counting on to lead them to victory. He'd called her 'pretty' and told her not to let anyone tell her she didn't belong. The words had meant more to her than she might have wished. He even seemed to share her lack of faith in the king, however he didn't seem to trust the Wardens either, or maybe he just had a practical view of them.

The young king was a glory obsessed fool, but he was a powerful one. He regarded the Grey Wardens highly, if perhaps too highly, but it was better than despising them. It was important to know who your friends were.

She couldn't get the Teyrn's words out of her head. He actually thought she was pretty.

She was, in truth, rather unremarkable. Any common eye could scarcely see past the way her short dark hair looked as though it had been trimmed by a blind person, eyes bearing the marks of years of troubled sleep, hands rough and calloused from working far too hard for her age, and most of it wasn't even honest work.

It helped not to be pretty in her profession. In Denerim, if a pretty girl was caught trying to pick someone's pocket, and if the guard had had a particularly long and lonely night, and as you had broken the law and it was his right to do what he wished with you...Well, it was better to spend a night in the dungeons, as at least then you got a roof over your head and maybe even a warm meal. You had far better chances the less remarkable you were.

Of course sometimes it didn't make much of a difference.

She talked to a mage; successfully suppressed the urge to kill the quartermaster after he mistook her to be a servant; helped out a caged human by stealing a guard's food and water – which had earned her a nice key to a chest with some equally nice things inside.

She then met one of her fellow recruits, a knight named Jory who proved not to be worth the space he was taking up. She only hoped he had some talent with that two-handed sword of his, or else they were all doomed.

Then, she had the fortune of meeting the other recruit.

"Well, well, if it isn't little Jenny herself…" a familiar voice called from behind her, she could almost hear the smug smile in the man's words.

He was a thief, just like her, and now he was here to intrude on her new life. He was just as tall as she remembered, towering over her with those shining eyes and that charmingly crooked smile of his.

"That's not my name, and I'm hardly a little girl anymore."

"It's the name you gave me," he pointed out. "Though you're right: you have become quite the lovely woman if I may say so myself."

It helped to know who your friends were. He was a licentious fool who'd saved her life. The deal was made from one thief to another, if only for the sake of having friends. Now, she regretted it.

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It was five years ago, she was just 16.

She'd found herself at the wrong end of a city guard's advances. He could have slit her throat easily, but he wasn't looking for a fight as much as he was the love of a good woman.

You could tell he wasn't in the business to keep people like her off the streets, but rather a way to avoid being stuck in the army where he would almost certainly die while he waited for his noble father's inheritance to pay off.

But then Daveth showed up with an arrow aimed right for the man's heart, and the boy realized he was outnumbered. And even though she was in no position to go for her daggers he must have decided it wasn't worth the risk. The guard turned and fled into the night.

"The name's Daveth," he'd said, with a slight bow. "And what might I call you, my lady?"

"Jenny…" she replied. She was still but a girl, all skin and bone and nerves. The incident had shaken her more than she'd care to admit to a stranger. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before, though she'd heard stories about other girls…

Somehow she'd found herself on the wrong side of town with a human man who had to be at least a good two or three years older than her.

"I…" she took a deep breath. "Thank you…"

"Eh? It was nothing. Little git was a coward anyway." He smiled and she shuddered. Whether it was due to the cold night air or the adrenaline coursing through her veins she wasn't sure.

He must have assumed the former because he took off his cloak and wrapped it around her thin shoulders as they walked. Where they were going she didn't know either.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

"I can't have you freezing to death."

She rolled her eyes.

"I mean, where are you taking me?"

"Hmm…Well, that's up to you. I was thinking I might walk you home, make sure you get where you're goin' safely." At her expression he asked, "You got a home, don't you?"

She scoffed, "Alienage." she said flatly, and the word held more meaning than anything else she could have said.

"Ah," he nodded slowly.

She let him put his arm around her as they walked. Eventually they reached the entrance to the Alienage. Moonlight poured through the holes in the wooden gate. The lock was broken already. The guard was supposed to make sure it was closed by nightfall meaning it had either been forgotten or another elf had seen to reversing the process earlier in the evening. Not that there weren't other ways to sneak in and out of the Alienage however.

"You can go." the elf to his right declared. "I'll be fine from here, really."

"Just let me get you across the bridge."

She didn't argue. It was probably late enough that he wouldn't be seen by any of her kin. They continued on in silence until they had passed the bridge. It was not an awkward silence as much as it was a necessary one.

They stopped and he smiled down at her. "Goodnight, my lady." Daveth said before turning and heading back in the direction they had come.

"Wait!" she called back after him, realizing his cloak still hung about her shoulders. "You forgot your cloak…" But he was already gone.

She shrugged and walked the rest of the way home in a sleepy daze, no longer afraid of whom or what might be in the shadows. She entered the house to find a candle lit in the center of the table Father had built after Mamae died and he had needed a distraction. Shianni sat staring at the dancing flame with a glass of gin in her hand.

"Hey Cousin," she said, grinning. "You're back early." It was two o'clock in the morning, but that didn't make her observation any less true.

"Yeah, I know...I...ran into a bit of trouble tonight." The elf said, draping the cloak over an empty chair. There were bruises on her arms, and her hair - which was much longer at the time - had mostly all but fallen out of the secure knot she'd tied it up in to keep it out of her way.

"Oh; A drink?"

"You know I don't drink, Shianni." she replied. Shianni had been drinking since before she was Jenji's age. No one thought anything of it: everyone had their own way of dealing with their lot in life. She drank, Cyrion worked, Jenji fought, Soris dreamed. Well, maybe they all did.

"So what kind of trouble was this? You're not locked up in Fort Drakon, you don't look like you've been thrashed too bad, you're not dead, so I'm guessing…" She'd been counting them off on her fingers, which now balled into a fist. Her face became grave, and her eyes a little less cloudy. "Oh Maker…"

"It's not what you think," she was quick to say. "He didn't…that is…I-I'm fine." She didn't dare meet Shianni's eyes.

"You escaped, on your own?" There was clear relief in the woman's voice.

"Well…I had a little help…" she bit back a smirk.

"And that's how you got that cloak?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "He was nice; human. Made sure I got home all right."

"Human…" Shianni muttered, finishing off the last of the gin. The two shared a thoughtful silence.

Jenji could report what had happened to the authorities and likely be called a lying knife-ears or a lucky wench. Either way she'd be arrested for being a thief or a harlot, probably both, even though she was only guilty on one charge. It served no purpose.

"Well, goodnight Cousin."

"Shianni…?"

"Yeah?"

"I owe ya one."

The second time she saw him, they had both gone after the same target. She let him have it because she figured she owed him for saving her. Everyone had to survive somehow, but it was best not to owe any favors. He just winked, snatched the woman's purse, and vanished.

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"Why are you here?"

"Same reason you are: got caught trying cut a knight's purse, it was Duncan actually. Next thing I know half the city wants to see me hang and I'm on my way to become a Grey Warden. Lucky, eh?" he grinned. "Name's Daveth, in case you've forgotten. I haven't seen you in a while, Jenny. Been keeping out of trouble I hope?"

"Jenji," she said through gritted teeth. "My name is Jenji. Though I doubt you're going to stop calling me that anyway, right?"

"Not a chance, Jenny." This time the smile reached his eyes. "Not a chance."

She wasn't quite ready to reveal the details of her recruitment. Honestly it still felt like a dream, so surreal yet potent enough that she almost thought she could reach out and touch it; hold the memory in her hands and crush it between her fingers like a clump of dirt. And if she wasn't ready to believe it, she certainly wasn't ready to talk about it.

Up until a fortnight ago, her existence had been a very simple one. poverty and oppression were common. Sickness, hunger, death, corruption: it was how it worked. There was no way of fighting it or avoiding it. Her people had been persecuted and even enslaved for ages. Their language, culture, and homeland had been lost and found and lost again. It was a bitter history and it was a burden she had to carry. You just had to hope you could pull your own weight.

There was never an end to the fighting between her people and their oppressors, because the humans had power they didn't want to lose: power over her.

And now she was admittedly frightened. This wasn't her war to fight and yet she was left without a choice. Everything she had been raised to believe was telling her to get as far away from here as possible. Her mind was an abyss of questions and she cursed her luck.

But now _he_ was here, and he found her quite remarkable. She figured it must be a sign.

"What do you say," Daveth was saying, "for old time's sake, you know, before we have to go save the world…?" He winked and gestured towards a soldier with some rather deep pockets. She smiled, after all what was the worst that could happen? At most they'd get stern lecture and maybe a slap on the wrist. You know what they say about old habits.

And there was a lecture, but it wasn't nearly as reprimanding as she had expected. Apparently some stuck-up knight had went up to Duncan and reported being stolen from by one of his recruits, effectively spoiling her and Daveth's fun. Duncan, to her amazement, had actually defended her on her behalf.

The lecture that he gave her, if she'd interpreted it correctly, was mostly an advisory not to get caught more than it was to tell her stealing was wrong. She already knew stealing was wrong, she just believed that was only so depending on your perspective.

And suddenly, she started to like Duncan a whole lot more.

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"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

"You are a very strange human." Jenji remarked, and she meant it as much as a compliment as possible.

"You are not the first to tell me that." _You don't say…_

So_ this _was Alistair then_, interesting…_

"You know, there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is…" he said out of the blue after they had been formally introduced. Well, at least he wasn't stupid enough to say something about her being an elf.

"I can handle myself better than most."

He laughed. "Yes, I'm starting to get that impression." _Good for you…_

They went back to Duncan in silence. Both Daveth and Ser Jory were already there, waiting for them.

"So, this is Ser Jory, a knight from Redcliffe, and-" Alistair started to say.

"-Daveth," Jenji cut in.

"Oh, you know each other?" Alistair raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, we go way back."

"Twice, Daveth, we saw each other twice in five years." Jenji snapped.

"And it was magical."

Duncan sighed.

They had their orders: go into the Wilds, kill darkspawn, collect blood, and find treaties. Simple as that, right?

They happened upon a dying man in the Wilds, with a rather sad tale and a poor chance of survival if he was anything like the men she'd seen in the infirmary.

"_What's wrong with him?" Jenji had asked gently. The nurse frowned._

"_We…don't know. His wounds will heal, and his blood is free of the darkspawn corruption. He's just…terrified."_

And why wouldn't he be?

"We don't have time for this." Jenji stated. Alistair was taken aback.

"We don't have time?" he asked in disbelief, looking at her like she was the archdemon itself.

"We have a job to do. And this," she gestured at the bleeding soldier, "isn't it."

He disobeyed her orders, deciding to bandage up the soldier anyway. The walking dead man limped away, heading back towards Ostagar.

That was when Ser Jory chose to demonstrate just what a coward he was. Granted, she was just as afraid, if not more so, as those who followed her. But fear wasn't useful. Fear wouldn't help her now. Fear hadn't helped her to escape the Arl's estate.

Alistair was nice enough to inform them that Grey Wardens could sense darkspawn. That could be useful.

"See, Ser Knight, we might die, but we'll be warned about it first." Daveth pointed out. Jenji tried not to laugh.

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They must have cleared the Wilds of darkspawn by now.

The blood hadn't been hard to come by. One darkspawn had more than enough blood for several Joinings. The treaties however, were another matter entirely.

This Morrigan woman was quite perplexing.

"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is!"

"Scared of witches, are you Daveth?" Jenji was amused. Even Morrigan smiled. Though she had to give him credit, for it was certainly better than Alistair's attempt at humor or perhaps intimidation.

"No…I just…she's a witch!" Daveth repeated defensively.

"We don't know that." the elf countered. Then she turned to Morrigan and smiled sweetly. "Morrigan, would you be so kind s to tell us whether or not you are in fact a Witch of the Wilds?"

The woman in question scoffed. "'Tis nothing but legends, I assure you. Tales meant to frighten small children. You are, I hope, not scared so easily as a mere child. Otherwise I think I should worry on behalf of all our souls at the hands of these wretched darkspawn."

No, if there was a witch to be had it was Morrigan's mother. She seemed like a nice enough old woman, but something about her made Jenji's skin crawl. She pushed the feeling aside however, seeing as the woman did hand over their treaties without hesitation, even instructing her daughter to show them the way back to camp. Nice old woman…too nice maybe.

Once they were back Jenji gave the white flower to the kennel master for that sick mabari, along with some others she had found for after the battle was over, since surely there would be more infected hounds.

She managed to get a couple silvers out of it, too.

Next Jenji took advantage of that key the prisoner had been kind enough to give her. Now that the Tranquil mage was gone, she could freely take the things the chest held. Not that it would have made much of a difference.

After a quick trip to the quartermaster to sell some unneeded items – he still acted afraid of her - it was time to report back to Duncan.

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So this ritual could kill them…

That was…unsettling.

Jory was still acting cowardly, it was a good thing he was good with a sword or Maker help him…

"I swear I'm the bravest one here, and I'm a woman!" Jenji said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Ridiculous."

"Look, you saw those darkspawn, Ser Knight: wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?" Daveth asked.

Jenji took a deep breath. _Nelaros…No, this is no time for that. His death was his own._

Jory still looked uncertain, so Daveth continued. "Maybe you'll die, maybe we'll all die, if no one stops the darkspawn, we'll die for sure. The Wardens do what they must, right?"

"Including sacrificing us?" Jory asked almost angrily.

"I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight." Daveth replied calmly.

Jenji looked at him. "We don't know that, Daveth."

"Don't we, Jenny? Why else would this whole ritual thing be such a secret? I mean, what else are you going to do with darkspawn blood?" _He's right...Maker, we're going to die…_

Jory looked sick. "I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade." _Welcome to real world._

And Daveth was right, as it turned out. After the traditional pre-Joining words had been spoken, it was in the Maker's hands.

"Jory, step forward." It was another rabbit versus dog scenario. Ser Jory backed away, holding his sword out in front of him.

"No; you ask too much...There is no glory in this!" _Of course there isn't…You were never promised glory._

She knew where this was going.

"Wait," she said to Duncan, who was also going for his blade. He opened his mouth to protest but she was already at Jory's side.

"Ser Jory—"

"-No, no I will run you through if I have to. Dammit, I have a wife and a child! H-ad I known…"

"Ser Jory, listen to me. Do you know why I'm here?" He shook his head. "I'm here because my fiancé risked his life to rescue me from a terrible fate: a noble captured me in order to have his way with me." Daveth suddenly looked uncharacteristically serious. "Now you love your wife don't you?" He nodded. "And you would do anything to protect her?" He nodded again. "Well, here's your chance."

"Your fiancé…" Jory said weakly. "…is he still alive?"

"Yes, yes he is." Sometimes, it was best to lie.

Ser Jory sheathed his sword and stepped forward. "I am ready."

…She could hardly believe what she was seeing…

Jory was dead.

"I am sorry, Jory." Duncan said, and she knew he really was.

"Step forward, Jenji."

She did so, and Daveth smiled at her encouragingly. "Well, Jenny, see you on the other side."

She drank deep.

And then there was pain.


	4. Luck

_"Better an ounce of luck than a pound of gold."_

_- Yiddish proverb_

She knew it shouldn't be so difficult to tell whether or not she was dead, but it was.

This was not the Fade, nor the Beyond, she wasn't even sure it was anywhere at all. It was dark and hot and there were vines of bright orange lava curving and twisting their way beneath her feet in curious patterns. They were like cracks in the stone, and she vaguely registered the way the skin of her heels blistered when she touched them. They were the only light, grinding the earth to dust as they were sworn to do.

Yes, she was standing...somewhere, or her spirit was more like. But this wasn't the Fade: she was here, in essence. She felt the fire lick her flesh, she felt the stinging of her eyes from the smoke, she smelled the familiar stench of darkspawn that nothing else could quite compare to, and this was coming from someone who had lived in an Alienage.

This was not the Fade. Wynne had said the Fade had no darkspawn...

But where were they?

As if in response to her thought, the beastial roars of the creatures sounded in her ears. Her first instinct was to run, but where? For all she knew she'd end up running straight into the clutches of the horde itself. Fight then, but how? She was without a weapon, or armor, or clothing now that she thought about it. Why was she...?

The earth split open with a great burst of flame, and there the archdemon stood...and waited.

She jumped back to avoid the dragon's fire only to find herself in the hands of a hurlock. A line of darkspawn had formed behind her. The archdemon let out a cry of what she could only imagine was amusement, its barbed tail swatted at the air, parting the flames.

What really got her though was its eyes...they were too close, fixed on her, staring at her. It was as if it was sizing her up, judging her worthiness. The beast's teeth formed into a horrific sort of sneer, its eyes narrowed. It almost looked tired. Maybe, on some level, it knew how this must end, as it had four times prior, all its brothers slain...

She saw the shine of silver out of the corner of her eye: a sword.

_**Please, kill us here. Set us free. We don't want to hurt them...We don't want to hurt you.  
**__  
No, it can't be that easy._

_**Sometimes things are as easy as they seem.**_ _**Take this for what it is.  
**__  
No, this is your place!_

_**Have mercy**__...  
_  
The dragon lowered its head to her, waiting for the blade to fall, welcoming it. And she realized the sword was in her hand, and the hurlock had released its grip on her.

The darkspawn looked lost. The archdemon, it spoke of things it couldn't possibly understand.

…Could it? But why now? Why her?

A song reached her ears..._Mamae_...She stood with the Shadow People, meant to symbolize the lives the Blight would claim.

The blade slid easily into the creature's skull and with it blackness enveloped the world. It took Mamae with a gush of crimson and unsung notes. The sword was gone from her grasp as quickly as it had come. The dragon lifted its head and drank in her fear.

_Mamae...Mamae!_

The hurlock had her again, both holding her upright and preventing Jenji from running.

The archdemon gave one last world shattering growl, and the hurlock's hands closed around her throat. She fought blindly against the swirling void that claimed her a little too gently for her to object: a black-spirited metaphor, it said.

_**Welcome.**_

_But why…?_

_**Survival, Warden, survival.**_

Pain…

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The first thing she could see clearly was Duncan and Alistair staring down at her. Jenji could scarcely believe all that could have been a dream. It was so vivid, she _had_ been there, she was sure of it.

"Welcome," Duncan said, and all she could think was that was what they archdemon had said.

She noticed Daveth laying a short ways from her, he looked pale.

"No...Maker, he's...he's not...?"

"He is alive." Duncan told her, and she could plainly see it now; the way the thief would twitch occasionally, or even smile. She wondered if the archdemon had messed with his head too.

"Daveth," she said, shaking him awake. "Get up."

The latter stirred, rolling over to face her. "Aw, dammit Jenny, it was just getting to the best part..."

"What?" the elf demanded. She was shocked.

Alistair grinned. "Oh this I have _got_ to hear."

The thief's eyes sparkled. He was clearly pleased with his audience. "Well Jenny, you were just about to take off your-Ow!" She punched him hard in the shoulder.

"This is no time for jokes. I need you two to accompany me to a meeting with the king to discuss plans for the upcoming battle." Duncan said seriously.

Jenji nodded, "Understood."

Blood filled pendants around their necks, Jenji and Daveth followed Duncan to where the meeting was to take place. King Cailan was arguing with Loghain, a bald mage was arguing with the Grand Cleric, and none of it made any sense to her.

"Ah, and this is the elf I met on the road. I understand congratulations are in order." the king smiled, but she could see it in his eyes: he remembered that meeting very well. Suddenly everyone seemed to be looking at Jenji.

"Yes...Thank you, your Majesty." she said through gritted teeth. _Deep breaths…_

There was more bickering, Jenji wondered why these shems were arguing amongst themselves when the darkspawn threatened to swarm from the depths of the Wilds at any moment.

"So it's settled, we'll send Alistair and the new Grey Wardens to make sure the beacon is lit." the king declared, and who was she to object? Neither her nor Daveth knew anything of wars or strategy. Alistair however, seemed to disagree.

"That's not fair! I should fight in the battle!"

"Oh would you stop your whining already? You said yourself Loghain would win this battle for us, yes? Well this is Loghain's plan with Cailan's name on it. And even if he's a sodding fool, you are loyal to your king." Jenji said.

"Fine, but if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line, darkspawn or no." Alistair crossed his arms and looked _very_ serious, Jenji actually found herself smiling.

"It's a deal then."

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She'd never seen a battle of this magnitude before. Andraste's left tit, the largest battle she'd ever seen had been over a wheel of Orlesian cheese someone had tossed out into an alley.

This time they had a plan, and it was a good plan.

But the tower was lost. _Bloody human army..._

A Circle mage joined their party, as they had only one option: storm the tower, light the beacon, save the bloody human army. _Good plan._

Pain…

Darkspawn were everywhere. Jenji's vision had gone red, there was gore in her hair yet she did not stop, despite how tired she was. The tower seemed to be getting taller, her leg had been frozen by an emissary's spell, and she wondered why their mage didn't have any healing magic. What in the Maker's name were they teaching them at the Circle?

She'd never killed anyone before Vaughan and his guards. She'd never seen the light fade from someone's eyes until then. Jenji had never fancied herself a murderess, and she liked to think she was an honest enough thief. It wasn't the same with darkspawn though; there was no light, they just fell. They were more akin to undead than anything else really.

Jenji wasn't sure just how many levels the tower had, or how many they'd cleared. She wasn't sure how many darkspawn were dead at her hand, all she knew was that at some point something in her broke and it wasn't about the beacon or how late they were in lighting it or even saving the bloody human army. It wasn't even about stopping the Blight; she just wanted to go home.

She was out of breath, and some part of her must have known she was lying on the ground, yet she couldn't find the strength to push herself back up. A darkspawn stood over her, its axe raised over its head, when suddenly it turned to face Alistair who was driving his sword through its side, skewering it like a piece of meat. The creature fell to the ground with a thud and the sound of broken bones.

"You all right?" Daveth was crouched beside her, obviously and reasonably concerned.

"Yeah...just...can't breathe..." She let her head fall back onto the cold stone, her eyes closed.

A muffled roar echoed from above them. Her eyes shot open. Alistair and Daveth exchanged a look.

"Hey, Jenji, we have to keep moving." Alistair said softly, but she was already getting to her feet.

"Come on!" she called, headed for the stairs.

_An ogre, a sodding ogre; seriously?_

Even though she could hardly stand, Jenji knew they had to beat this thing. Victory depended on them.

"Alistair: charge! Distract it. Now,"

He did.

"Mage, keep your distance! Any spells you have, use them! Now,"

He did.

"Daveth, defend the mage! Now,"

He did.

Jenji rushed into the fray blindly, all knives and fury.

Eventually, the beast slowed, and fell.

The elf's knees hit the bloodied floor. Was that her blood...? She couldn't remember. She allowed the rest of her body to sink to the ground until she was more or less curled up in a ball. It was so cold...the pain was less a sensation as it was a concept...a distant idea...someone's nightmare. The fog of the Fade was beginning to press heavily on her now, when suddenly a thought called her mind back like...like a beacon…a _beacon_…

"The beacon!" she wasn't sure if the words had been her own or not.

"Jenny!" Daveth...he was calling her, but where was he? She couldn't see him...

"Darkspawn!" then…that was Alistair..._Darkspawn...?_

_I'm going to die_.

Fear.

0

0

0

It was somehow...easier, to drag her spirit back from the void.

Jenji was only slightly aware of the pain in her ribs, the gash to the back of her thigh, the way in which dim light flickered from behind her eyelids. It was so cold..._shiver_...for a long time. Then she felt like she was burning, even on fire. Her eyes shot open. She was drenched in sweat and impossibly tired. How long had she slept...?

"So, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased." She knew this woman - the Witch of the Wilds, allegedly - but the elf did not know this place.

She tried to move, at very least to survey her surroundings, but Morrigan moved to stop her.

"Lie still," the Witch ordered. "The wound to your leg was terribly infected. The fever broke but an hour ago." If she didn't know any better, she might even have called the woman's tone gentle.

She was made to drink a potion then. The liquid was thick as honey but bittersweet. Jenji drank what she could before pushing it away with pale and uncertain hands.

"The darkspawn..." she rasped, her throat coated with the odd potion, which for some reason left a tingling sensation on her tongue.

"...Are gone; for now at least." Morrigan said, pursing her lips. "The man who was to respond to your signal...quit the field; the darkspawn won your battle." _It's not my battle_...

"He seemed so nice..." Jenji mused, sighing.

"People will always disappoint you." the Witch said sagely.

"So the army...the king...?"

"All dead," Morrigan confirmed with a curt nod. "Those he abandoned were massacred, including your Grey Wardens. Nevertheless, you would not want to see the state of that valley now."

"Maker..."

The apostate fell silent for a moment before continuing. "Mother managed to save you and your friends, though 'twas a close call...too close in fact."

Jenji blinked, her pulse quickened, "My friends? You mean Alistair and Daveth?" The hope became a painful knot in her stomach.

"The suspicious dim-witted one and the one who has not since stopped staring at my breasts, yes." Morrigan replied. So that meant the mage who had followed them into the tower was dead...and she hadn't even bothered to learn his name. "When I saw them last, the one called Alistair was outside moping by the fire while Mother and the other one tried to comfort him, rather unsuccessfully I might add."

That made sense; Alistair had lost much with this new development. Ferelden had lost a king and had a hero become a usurper. He'd lost Duncan and his fellow Wardens, and knowing him, he probably wouldn't be taking it well.

"But why would your mother rescue us?"

"I wonder at that myself...I would have rescued your king: a king would be worth a much higher ransom, if you ask me." This surprised the elf. _No one asked you..._

"Coin matters to you? Out here?"

"Who said anything about coin? Power is _much_ more valuable."

"King Cailan was a fool." Jenji stated bitterly.

"Perhaps, but he was a powerful fool."

Jenji did indeed find her fellow Wardens outside of the hut, Alistair was taking this whole thing a lot worse than she could have ever imagined. Like herself, he and Daveth were still wearing their armor from that night, her own leathers had several tears and spots of dried blood both hers and the darkspawns'.

"You...you're alive...we thought you were dead for sure..." Alistair's voice was not his own, she'd never heard it without at least a twinge of its good natured humor.

"You gave us quite the scare, Jenny." Daveth added.

Obviously she was not dead. It was a fact she had been uncertain about far too many times in recent days.

So they had to face the Blight, on their own...

They would need an army...

...dwarves...mages...Dalish elves...

And they were the only ones in Ferelden who could...

"It won't be easy," Jenji told them. She was not normally a negative person, but sometimes you had to face facts.

"And when is it ever?" Flemeth laughed.

"We didn't sign up for this because it would be easy." Daveth pointed out.

"_I_ didn't sign up for this at all, neither did you."

"Yeah, but it beats gettin' strung up, doesn't it?"

"Look, whether we signed up for this or not, we have a duty as Grey Wardens. It isn't something you can just take back or ignore. And right now, it's more important than ever that we stay together in this." Alistair said, and she knew he believed it, maybe it was even true.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Daveth announced. "What do you say Jenny, ready to go save the world?"

She wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. What else could she say?

"Yeah," she replied, "I'm ready."

Flemeth had one last thing she could give them: her daughter. Jenji couldn't blame Morrigan for being unsure about leaving the Wilds in the company of strangers, after all she'd felt much the same way when she was Conscripted. Truth be told, she wasn't really sure about the woman though. Morrigan was human, physically at least, but she did not seem to consider herself one. She knew so very little of their culture and customs, yet she was quick to point out the flaws of human society.

There was really no name for what she was, other than Witch. She was very different from the Chasind who also apparently inhabited those areas.

Alistair was awfully quiet, Morrigan tried to stay cheerful if only for the sake of annoying him, and Daveth indeed was preoccupied with Morrigan's chest. The group made their way out of the Wilds at a steady pace, as it was vital they be well on their way to Lothering by sunset. Jenji saw more bodies of soldiers strung up from trees, maimed well beyond recognition. All they could do was keep on moving at the same rhythmic pace.

Maker, she wanted to go home.

0

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0

Lothering…

Jenji had never been so happy to see civilization. It had taken them the better part of the day to get here, and half Dalish or not, she had begun to miss walls and buildings and people - even if they were shemlen.

"Highwaymen, preying on those fleeing the darkspawn." Alistair spoke with pure distain, looking down his nose at the men before them.

Jenji snorted. As if she didn't know they were not your average toll collectors. Theirs was a sad business however, and even _she_ didn't think they were worth her time. Harvey, the Mabari hound at her heels, gave a low growl.

It wasn't that they were human: it was that they had broken two very important unspoken rules of thieving. One; they were stealing from refugees, people who had little more than their lives and the clothes on their backs. You just didn't take from the poor; it was against even her principles. And two; they made the likely fatal mistake of trying to swindle _her_.

"So you're toll collectors then?" Jenji asked, deciding to humor them. "Doesn't this seem like an odd time to be collecting tolls? There is a Blight hanging over our heads, I'd say this village has less than a week before the darkspawn come. And who was it that told you to collect from refugees anyway? Are you not aware the king just died? Rather shady, if you ask me."

"Oh yeah..." the simple bandit spoke as if remembering something. "The Grey Wardens killed him, isn't that right?"

"Yep, traitors to Ferelden I hear." the leader replied, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Jenji wasn't exactly surprised. There were after all many things she did not know.

She didn't know why Grey Wardens were needed to stop Blights, yet somehow every Blight ended with a Warden slaying the archdemon, only to die. They were hailed as heroes, at least until now, for no real reason other than the fact that they were always there when the armies were rendered hopeless.

Cailan had made the mistake of believing it took only the Wardens, but the truth was they weren't there to fight all your battles for you. The only reason they had never failed was because they were the last to fight, they would swoop in at the perfect time and save the day.

Loghain on the other hand had made the mistake of underestimating them: they were still needed to end the Blight, she didn't know why - not that anyone seemed to - but they were.

That was why Loghain had to pay for what he did. Killing that fool of a king, she really couldn't care less about, but he had left the Wardens to die with him. Maybe it really had been a lost cause; they had been late in lighting the beacon after all, so she really couldn't know for certain. But if that were the truth he would have owned up to it, if he truly had no shame in doing what had to be done he would have admitted it. Instead, he blamed her order.

The elf folded her arms and stared the leader dead in the eye.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know. I bet everyone you've stole from knew exactly what was happening, but that don't matter if you get the coin does it?" Jenji spoke evenly. "Oh, and I'm a Grey Warden by the way, so are my friends here, except the mage. And before you think about collecting that bounty, consider this: we are the last Wardens in Ferelden, if you manage to kill us the Blight will grow unchecked and Ferelden will fall to the darkspawn." The men looked uneasy, Jenji went on.

"Not to mention, I already know all your tricks. I've been where you are, only I didn't stoop to cheating refugees out of their last bit." she took a breath. "Now here are your options: you could fight and I could kill you or you kill me and doom us all, or you can leave and never come back. Or, you've a third option: you can join my cause, fight the darkspawn, and maybe even get yourself a marked grave. It's better then what you'll get if the guards catch you first. But, I'm guessing that's still not as appealing as running, is it?"

Hesitantly, the bandit leader shook his head.

"I-I was just trying to...get by, you know? I was just trying to…feed my family."

Alistair snorted, but the elf ignored him.

"I know. That's what they all say – that's even what I've said - and you may even be telling the truth. It doesn't matter, those are your options."

The leader opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for words. "W-where should we go?" he asked finally.

"I don't care, anywhere but here. You'll want to disappear for a time; head north, away from the hordes. Try not to steal from those who have less than you, and if you ever find yourself in Denerim, give my regards to Sargent Kylon." She paused. "I'm also going to need you to hand over everything you've stolen."

He did, it wasn't much, just a few silver. She had no doubt they had more they were hiding, but Jenji wasn't looking for a fight, at least not with pathetic shems like this. The men were gone in the blink of an eye.

"Wow...that was..."

"Brilliant!" Daveth grinned.

"Pity, I would have hoped for more bloodshed. Those fools were not worth your breath."

"Agreed," Jenji muttered.

She wondered what this place was like before the darkspawn threat. A sleepy little town, she figured, where trade ran slow but steadily. It didn't matter now: Lothering was as good as gone, just a forgotten mark on an outdated map.

Alistair wanted her to have a plan. The treaties, he suggested, which was a good idea. She'd figure it out, she said, after they got more news. Information was a valuable thing.

Morrigan was content to teasing Alistair, and he of course did the same right back at her. Occasionally, Daveth would remark with something like, "Morrigan, I killed an ogre, you know," and she would respond with an exasperated sigh and the usual, "So you keep saying."

Mostly however, he kept close to Jenji. She wasn't sure why.

"Please, miss, if you could only spare of moment of your time..." A man, an elven man, addressed her. She hadn't been paying much attention to the refugees. They were all scared and with good reason, and as much as part of her wanted to help them, she had a job to do.

But these were elves...

"Of course," she said kindly. "What can I do for you?"

The man and the woman Jenji took to be his wife looked at each other, perhaps deciding who would speak. In the end, he continued.

"We came here thinking it'd be safer, but we were robbed. Those bandits on the road...they took everything we had, including our daughter's pet lamb...We appealed to the chantry, but with all the panic and such…nobody cares about a few elves."

Jenji felt a familiar twinge of pity for the family, especially the little girl. They hadn't done anything to deserve this..._And I let those shems go...I let them go...because they were like me._

She gave them the silvers that the bandits had given her, and admitted to running them off, which actually made the elves happy. She didn't understand it, she'd let them go when she should have killed them or let the templars kill them. And these elves were thanking her it.

Alistair tapped her gently on the shoulder. "Looks like there's something going on over there," he said, pointing to where a priest and a small group of refugees were gathered around a merchant. So...they were buying things? That hardly sounded like her business, but then she realized they were yelling about something, though she couldn't hear from where she was. Jenji walked calmly over to have a listen.

After a moment, it was clear what was happening. Merchant sees a profit, people decide it's unfair. Perhaps it wasn't the right time to be talking business, but how else was he supposed to survive? He was a merchant, and it was what he knew, even in a crisis.

"Drive this rabble off and there's a nice tiny profit in it for you." He said with a sly smile.

"Get rid of the 'tiny' part and I might be more willing to consider it." The words felt hollow as they left her lips, but she had to survive too. In fact, if she and her companions didn't survive, no one did. That was grounds for considering things like this, wasn't it?

"What? You're siding with him?" The priest gasped.

"'Tis only survival of the fittest," Morrigan said.

"I hate to admit it," Daveth chimed in, "but Morrigan's right."

"What?" Alistair almost shouted. "No she isn't! I refuse to live in a world where Morrigan is right!"

The Witch in question nearly smiled.

"I'm sorry, Sister," Jenji said to the priest. "But you need to leave. Get out of Lothering as soon as you can. It won't be here soon enough."

"But how am I supposed to leave without supplies?"

"The chantry has enough supplies for its own I'm sure. You'll survive."

The woman stormed off, the crowd that had gathered dispersing slowly. Jenji was given her profit, not to mention a nice discount, and purchased some much needed supplies of her own at a modest price.

After handing an orphan a coin and sending him to the chantry, they crossed the bridge that divided the two halves of the town.

"Chasinds," Morrigan muttered as they approached the Wilder folk. There was some sort of disagreement over some stolen goods. Jenji didn't want to get involved in this one. The man was terrified and the woman seemed not quite right in the head, in shock perhaps. The elf wondered if that's what all of them were like.

"_'Dane's Refuge',_" Daveth read the sign aloud. "How much you wanna bet they still got a room available?" The man standing outside confirmed their suspicions. Apparently the place was full to bursting, refugees sleeping on the floor, and as long as they were indoors they didn't seem to mind it.

Sure enough, they did find refugees...and soldiers. Worse still, they were Loghain's soldiers; and they'd come for her.

This was bad.

But it seemed he hadn't sent his best men, in fact Jenji felt a little insulted. She appreciated the redheaded Sister's help, not that it was needed, but then she tried to convince Jenji to spare their lives. The girl pleaded with her, saying things like, "they were no match for you!" _True..._ "They have surrendered!" _True..._ They may have been blind fools, but that wasn't her concern either.

"Listen here," Jenji said to the man who knelt in front of her, avoiding her eyes and half expecting his death. "You will report back to Loghain; and you will tell him _exactly_ what I tell you to, understand? If you fail to do this, then when I seek him out and kill him, I will kill you too." That wasn't entirely true: she'd probably kill him anyway.

The man flinched. "W-what do you want to tell him?"

Jenji bit her lip, her mouth curling into a sneer. "Tell him a certain 'pretty' elf is coming for him, and that he will pay. Not for abandoning his king, you understand, but for abandoning the Wardens, blaming us for the king's death, and just making my job a whole lot harder. Tell him I've done it before, and I'll do it again. Tell him there will be as much noble blood spilled as need be until I have his head." Her smile was that of a madwoman. "You got all that?" The soldier nodded and fled.

She wished she could see the look on Loghain's face when he got that message.

"Thank you," the Sister said. "I know that must have been hard for you to do."

"Which part? Sparing the fool's life or delivering that message? Because I can assure you, one was a lot easier than the other."

"My name is Leliana, I am a Lay Sister of the chantry here in Lothering." The redhead explained.

"And where does a Sister learn to fight like that?" Jenji asked.

"Where does a pretty elf learn to fight like that?" The girl questioned. Jenji's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm sorry, that was terribly rude. It's just...I wasn't always a member of the Chantry, you know; I had a sordid past, like many of my Brothers and Sisters do."

"Ooh, I like her." Daveth said.

"Of course _you_ do." Morrigan glared.

"Well, I suppose I appreciate the help then. The Wardens haven't many allies nowadays."

The woman nodded, "Which is why I'm coming with you. We shall rid this world of the evil darkspawn, as the Maker wills. Together."

Leliana just smiled, but Jenji and her companions looked extremely confused. "The Maker..." Jenji finally managed to say. "The Maker...told you...to come with us...?" It was a guess, and she never expected it to be right.

"Yes, I had a vision from the Maker Himself, and that was when I knew I had to do something. When you came along I knew it was fate."

"Leliana, you need to understand: bad things happen to people who stop Blights. You'd be better off getting yourself to safety." The elf tried to explain, but reasoning with the woman proved an impossible task. "If you feel badly for the people here, help them."

"Oh, but it's the Maker's will! Please just-"

"-I vote we let her come along." Jenji turned towards Alistair, knowing one of them had lost their mind, and it certainly wasn't her.

"Since when do we _vote_?"

"I vote that we vote on whether or not she should come along." He rephrased.

Jenji sighed, wanting to leave here more than ever. "Very well, everyone who thinks Leliana should come with us, raise your hand." Alistair, Daveth, and Leliana raised their hands. Harvey of course couldn't raise his hand but he did bark in agreement.

"Leliana," Jenji said rhythmically, "you don't get a vote yet. We're voting on whether you get a vote or not." The woman's hand fell, and she muttered an apology.

"And you," she turned her attention to the dog. "Aren't you supposed to be loyal to your master no matter what?" He just whimpered.

"Clearly I've been outvoted." Jenji declared. _Damn..._ "But let it be known that, from this point on, as your leader I get one veto. If you people vote on something that's utterly stupid and I disagree and I know for a fact that if you got your way it would have catastrophic effects on us all, I will veto it. Understood?"

They understood.

"So...I get to come with you?" Leliana asked excitedly.

"Yes..."

The owner of the tavern was a nice enough man, offered them free drinks anyways. He didn't have any rooms but he seemed to know quite a bit of news. She made sure he had a way out of Lothering before the Blight hit, for some reason she simply found she wanted him to live, though she wasn't sure why.

Jenji purchased a rather bizarre looking dagger from a man who was out to kill the other merchant she'd helped. There was something odd about it she couldn't quite place, perhaps it was the feeling she got when she touched it…

"Careful with that," the merchant warned. "You know what that is, don't ya?" She didn't. "They call that the Thorn of the Dead Gods, rumor has it there are two more of its kind out there. That's cursed, that is." Great, as if she needed more bad luck. Nevertheless, she slid it in its place next to the Dar'Misu she'd acquired courtesy of the other merchant and left the tavern without another word.

And she wanted to go home.


	5. Outsourcing

_"Teamwork is working together — even when apart."_

"Why are we stopping?"

Jenji craned her neck to look at the qunari; she'd released him because honestly she needed all the help she could get. And maybe there was something about people in cages that reminded her so much of herself and made her want to do all she could. She didn't care why he was made prisoner, and she didn't ask.

"I need to know I can trust you at my back." That didn't mean she could trust him however.

"I am qunari: we are not a people of idle promises." Sten replied.

"And I am elven: we are not a people of idle trust." She retorted, earning a grunt from Sten.

"What do you wish to know, Warden?" he asked, and Jenji thought for a moment. There was after all many things she did not know.

"Well, I've never seen a qunari before. Tell me a little about your people." It seemed to her a simple enough question.

"No." and that was the last thing she had expected.

"Excuse me?"

He sighed. "People are not simple. They cannot be summarized for easy reference in the manner of: the elves are a lithe, pointy-eared people who excel at poverty."

"Excuse me?" He hadn't said it out of anger or prejudice, and maybe that was what bothered Jenji the most.

"Can we move on?" Sten asked.

They were a ways out of Lothering by now, but not quite far enough for her comfort. She figured they had at least an hour until the sun went down, and the further from the village they were, the better.

When finally they did stop and make camp for the night, Jenji allowed herself to sleep. And again she was in that oddly familiar dark place, and again the archdemon appeared, but instead of trying to trick her it just attacked. Sometimes it would just be one darkspawn who would hack away at her with one tiny blade until her dream-self bled out and she woke, other times it was the entire horde rushing at her all at once, and sometimes the archdemon would just stare at her and she'd get this feeling like she was drowning. Those dreams were the worst.

She awoke suddenly, feeling like someone had just poured cold water over her the way Shianni used to. Jenji never had been much of a morning person.

"Bad dreams, huh?" It wasn't a mocking tone as much as it was Alistair's This-Is-Bad-News-But-Somehow-You'll-Be-Okay-With-It Because-I'm-Telling-You voice. Jenji couldn't catch her breath enough to reply, not that she needed to.

He gently explained that these dreams were in fact real in some way and that they would continue until the Blight was stopped. And somehow he managed to negate the seriousness of it all with witty remarks and what the elf took to be a smile.

And now Jenji had yet another motivation to stop the Blight.

That didn't mean she couldn't see how red his eyes were. She knew it was all an act. Alistair had lost everything, and she knew that feeling all too well.

"D-do you want to talk about Duncan?"

"You don't have to do that," he said as if he'd been expecting the question. "I know you didn't know him as well as I did."

"He was a friend of mine, too." She insisted. "I don't know if you knew this but he caught me and Daveth stealing from some of the knights at Ostagar. He gave me a lecture, but he wasn't angry really. It was like…he knew where I was coming from, and I don't just mean because he'd been to the Alienage; I mean he really knew…"

"Wait…you _stole_ from people at Ostagar?"

Jenji shrugged. "Old habits, I suppose." She said. "Thieving isn't something you can just stop. Don't get me wrong, you _can_ stop. But even so, you'll always have the eyes for it. Every object you'll see still has its potential. You can try to ignore it, but part of you will always think of it that way."

There were people she had known from the Alienage, elves that were too old or had been injured making it impossible for them to steal who had told her as much.

When he didn't respond, she continued. "Besides, I think we've all done a lot of growing up since then." A thin smile spread across her lips.

"So you're saying it's kinda like being a Grey Warden?" He asked curiously.

The elf shrugged again. "I guess so..."

"I just…I should have handled it better. What with the Blight and everything, I know you need me to be…Well, there are people depending on me – on us – and I…"

"I do need you to be focused, yes. But I'm not asking you to forget, because I know you can't do that. Grieve. I think we're all grieving for something, even if it's just the fact that all of Ferelden is counting on us."

"Even…_Sten_…?"

"He can't go home." She said simply.

"Oh." There was a pause. "And what about you," _I can't go home either._ "Have you ever lost anyone important to you?"

"I…I've lost enough to know what you're going through."

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Eventually Jenji gave up on the idea of sleep. Morning was approaching quickly and they would have to pull up camp and get a move on.

"I think we need to talk about where we intend to go now." Alistair said, pulling her aside. The others were packing up what little things they all had and preparing to leave as morning became noon.

"Didn't I tell you I'd figure it out?" she snapped, irritable from the lack of sleep.

"Yeah…but now we're at that point where we sort of need to have it figured out."

"Fine, then clearly we should go to the Circle." She declared.

"What? No, we should go to Redcliffe!"

Jenji sighed. "Did you want me to figure out where we should go or go where you want to?"

"Well it's just that Arl Eamon—"

"—Is deathly ill and the only cure is to find Andraste's ashes which may or may not exist and which dozens of knights couldn't even find. And if by some miracle we should find them we must also hope they have legendary healing powers." She reasoned.

"Well when you put it like that-"

"-And from what we've heard the mages are turning into abominations. If we wait much longer there may be none left."

"Then what _will_ we do?"

Jenji turned towards the rest of camp, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear her. "Here is what is going to happen," she announced, "we have two critical situations on our hands that could cost us allies so…Alistair, Leliana, Sten, and…Morrigan, will go to Redcliffe. While me, Daveth and Harvey, go to the Circle Tower."

"What?" Everyone save for Sten and of course the Mabari said in unison.

"Jenji you…you can't be serious. You're actually sending me to Redcliffe...with Morrigan? And also—" Alistair started before the Witch interrupted him.

"I agree," Morrigan spoke up. "I should not have to suffer the company of this fool."

Jenji smiled. "It's that, or the Tower."

"Point taken," the Witch huffed.

None of them looked any happier with the idea, except perhaps Harvey. Daveth was obviously uncomfortable with the idea of being around magic, but it had to be done.

"Alistair," Jenji said in a tone similar to how one might speak to a child. "You said yourself that you know this Arl Eamon person. I'm not asking you to find the Urn, just go to Redcliffe and see what you can dig up."

"And what about you?" he said after a moment. "I'm a templar, or was anyway, I could—"

"—Protect me? I will be fine, they're just mages, Alistair. And if things are worse than I thought I will turn back and go find you. Otherwise, I will meet you at Redcliffe after I've secured the aid we need." She smiled. "I won't be far. You could walk along the shore of Lake Calenhad and reach the Tower. Maker, you could probably see it from Redcliffe."

"Not helping," Alistair muttered.

With everything prepared, they went on their way; opposite ways though they were. It really was a good idea to kill two rats with one stick, or whatever the saying was, and this way they could get twice the work done as opposed to if they'd stayed together. Jenji didn't mention that part of the reason for the plan was because she would rather face abominations than another noble...

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Alistair watched helplessly until Jenji and her chosen companions were out of sight. He should be with them…but there was nothing he could do about it now. Reluctantly, he turned and headed in the other direction.

To Redcliffe...and _he_ was their leader.

They reached the village in a matter of hours. Leliana kept them entertained with her tales, Sten was a stoic as ever, and Morrigan remained…well, Morrigan.

This was supposed to be when he told her…and now there was never going to be another good opportunity. Maybe it wouldn't be important…? Royal blood be damned, he never wanted to be king anyway. It wasn't like they were in a position to use it in their favor. Yes, perhaps she didn't have to know after all…

"Thank the Maker you've come! I could hardly believe it when I saw travelers coming down the road. You are here to help us, aren't you? Oh you must be!" a man ran to meet them, panic and fear were etched on his features.

"Calm down," Alistair said. "Now what's happened here?"

The man's eyes widened. "You...you mean you don't know? Maker, has no one out there heard?"

The templar frowned. "We know Arl Eamon is ill, if that's what you mean." The villager shook his head.

"I-I will take you to Bann Teagan, he will know what to do. He can explain better." He broke into a run, and Alistair followed. So Bann Teagan was here…Whatever was going on must be serious…

The chantry was packed with frightened villagers. They stared up at Alistair and his party as they passed, eyes wide, and for a moment they almost reminded him of the refugees in Lothering; Almost. What was going on here?

True to the man's word, Bann Teagan stood at the front of the chantry. He looked tired and deeply worried. After the man, who was apparently named Thomas, had left Bann Teagan addressed them.

"Greetings friends, I am Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere. I came here when I heard my brother had fallen ill...and then the attacks started."

"I know you, Bann Teagan, though the last time we met I was a lot younger...and covered in mud." Alistair said.

"Covered in mud...? Alistair? Is that you? Thank the Maker, I thought for sure you were dead...Loghain would have us believe all the Grey Wardens died at Ostagar along with my nephew, our king, I am glad there is hope yet."

Alistair proceeded to explain that there were others, who also happened to be Wardens, that traveling with him who had gone to pursue other potential allies. Then Bann Teagan told him about the undead who attacked the village and he realized that he had no choice but to help.

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"You are honestly going to help these ungrateful swine?" Morrigan asked bitterly once they had left the chantry.

"I don't have a choice, Morrigan."

"You always have a choice. You do not have to help these people. You do not have to end the Blight. You could walk away, let someone else do it instead. Forget your sacred duty as a Grey Warden, and let this village burn."

"That's a choice to you?" he asked in disbelief.

"It is a choice, is it not? Whether you agree with is beside the point."

"Just shut up, would you? I owe it to the Arl to protect these people. When he recovers he will be a lot more likely to help us if his village still stands."

"You make excuses. The fact is that you will be wasting valuable time and resources to help them. And _if_ this so called Arl recovers and is to be of any use to us at all he will still see the danger the Blight poses on the whole of Ferelden regardless of whether or not his precious village stands." the Witch argued.

"Afraid of a little undead, Morrigan?" He teased.

"Don't be an idiot. They are a disgusting, unintelligent, waste of existence. But so, may I remind you, are the darkspawn. And, so are you. Yet I am not afraid of any of these things, as annoying as they might be." She crossed her arms and glared at the templar.

"Well Jenji put me in charge, so you can go ahead and try to leave and be stopped by the zombies and killed, or you can shut up and help me defend the village, and possibly be killed." he said firmly. The Witch muttered something he didn't quite catch.

"What?" he asked.

"I said, I would simply leave in animal form. They would not notice."

"Then go, if you like."

And she did.

He didn't want to admit it, but he did need Morrigan for her spells. It was going to be that much harder to defeat the zombies with only Sten, Leliana and himself. But that didn't mean he could give up, even if the odds were against him and even if it was a hazardous risk.

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The sun was setting as he stared off across Lake Calenhad, the Tower of Magi just barely visible through the wistful white clouds. He was thinking to himself, _what would Jenji do?_

Alistair turned around and almost had a heart attack when he saw Sten. It always amazed him just how quietly the qunari could move for someone so big.

"You let the Witch Morrigan leave." Sten stated.

"It was her choice. You always have a choice, you know." Alistair looked away.

"Not when it comes to duty, and it is your duty to stop the Blight. In order to do that you will need allies, and those allies must be kept in line."

"Great, now you're going to walk away, too? Look, I'm not a good leader. I have no idea why Jenji had this notion that I would be."

The qunari snorted. "No, I am not going to leave. I have been ordered by your fellow Grey Warden to remain here. It is not that you are incapable of leading; it is that you believe you are. If you believe you can do this, you will not fail." Sten said almost reassuringly.

"…Really?"

Alistair thought he saw the ghost of a smile on the qunari's features. "No."

)O(

**A/N:** Please review! I have been admittedly disappointed with the lack of reviews. Now I'm not one of those people who says, "Review or I will stop writing!" Because I love writing this story and I will post it either way. But reviews do motivate me to keep it up and it makes me happy that people enjoy reading my work.


	6. Mercy

_"All the great things are simple, and many can be expressed in a single word: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope."_

_- Winston Churchill_

The inn was conveniently placed on the shore of the polluted Lake Calenhad. The hour was late and Jenji was exhausted from the journey. She figured it was best to rent a room for the night and attempt to get across the lake to the Tower in the morning.

It was a dingy place with a shady clientele, reminded her of home really. They gave their coin to the innkeeper and a young girl was made to show them to their room. The room itself was not so bad, four walls, one window; one bed.

"This is it then?" Jenji inquired.

"Yes, miss." The girl spoke in a whisper, avoiding Jenji's eyes. Had she truly changed so much in so little time?

"One bed…?"

"Yes, miss."

"We'll make the best of it, won't we Jenny?" Daveth smirked. The dog jumped onto the bed and barked approvingly.

The girl scurried away, her cheeks turning bright scarlet.

Jenji was just too tired to care about anything. She was too tired to even be bothered by the possibilities of what they might face in the Tower tomorrow – though her imagination was sure fond of guessing, each creature worse than the last. She was too tired to notice how Daveth's breath tickled her neck, or the quarreling couple they apparently shared a wall with. And eventually, the muffled sound of drunken laughter from the tavern below finally lulled her to sleep, but then the dreams returned as she knew they would.

It was the same pattern: fire, darkspawn, Mamae, archdemon...She woke only to see Daveth standing at the window. The sky held the first traces of morning; it was blue, an opaque blue like the deepest space. Yet the Tower still cast an inky black shadow.

"You saw it too, didn't you?" Jenji whispered. Of course it hadn't been the exact same dream: it liked to play with people's memories. It would show you your loved ones just out of reach before the dark snatched them back as they called your name, or force you to relive your worst fears and deepest regrets over and over and over…

It twisted your darkest thoughts until you screamed, your spirit suspended like a rag doll, the archdemon pulling the strings.

But of course, he had no regrets from what Jenji could tell. Maybe she _was_ here seeking contrition from some god she didn't believe in, did that make her selfish, or weak? Was it wrong to feel guilt for something you couldn't change when so many depended on you? Hadn't she just told Alistair that it was normal? Was she lying to him? Was she lying to herself?

Still, Daveth nodded and a silence passed between them, and in it, Jenji notes how quiet the inn has become. The quarreling couple must have tired themselves out or made up by now, and it was still much too early for the drunks to be up yet.

"Alistair says the nightmares are part of sensing the darkspawn...We hear the archdemon talk to the horde." She paraphrased. "But the darkspawn can sense us, too. They know we are listening, and when we're asleep we can't fight back…He said the dreams would continue until the archdemon is dead."

"Well that's…cheery,"

And she knew it was now or never.

"I lied," the elf blurted out, "When I told Ser Jory that my betrothed was still alive, I lied...It was an arranged marriage...I didn't love him, I had convinced myself I would never be happy in that life and yet...he died trying to save me…" She looked down at the poorly crafted ring on her finger and bit her lip. "The rest was true…only I-I was too late to save my cousin. She just wanted to go home, we all did, and the noble...I killed him," something flashed in her eyes at that. "And you know what? I enjoyed it." She knew she was babbling now, but he just listened.

And he could sense the unasked question on her lips:

_Does that make me a bad person? _

She thought it was a foolish question. She knew the world wasn't really like that. There were good people, like Alistair and Leliana, but then there were bad people, like Vaughan and possibly Loghain. And there were those who survived. That's what she and Daveth and Morrigan were.

But it still surprised her how fresh the wound was, and she choked back the tears because she was a leader now.

There were no words that would suffice.

He held her then, and she found that he was surprisingly gentle with her, as if he feared she might break.

And for all Jenji knew, maybe she would.

They were not like lovers, but friends. It was as if she was child who'd had a nightmare. She'd shown him her wounds, detailing for him the most traumatizing thing to have happened to her since the death of her mother. And he was one of a select group of people on this earth who knew, one of a handful who would take this secret to the grave. For better or worse they had this which, unless one of them happened to suffer a severe head injury, they would always share.

It frightened her.

Never had she placed this level of trust in another person, at least not a human. Somehow he'd always been there when she needed him most, hadn't he? And yet even as Daveth smoothed her tangled hair Jenji would not let him see her cry because she was a leader now.

Everything fades, and sleep does not take her gently; instead it engulfs her. It wraps her in its silvery web and weaves a series of dark dreams she can't entirely remember. Maybe she doesn't want to. Maybe she wants to pretend she is someone else.

In the morning, Jenji is awoken by Harvey licking her face.

She found that it was a beautiful morning, the kind where you just want to lie in bed all day. Had she been more akin to the ways of the Dalish, like her mother, she may even had found something sacred in all this.

The Warden did not want to think about the demons taking over the Circle, or the evil behind it, and she knew in her heart that she did not want to be a leader today.

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After a light meal they make their way to the dock where they must convince a templar to take them across.

"I'm just saying," Jenji tells him, "that my friend here and I are very important people. We have official business with the Circle. Now I don't care what's happening there, I need the mages' help. And when the South is lost to the Blight, your superiors will not want to hear that you denied me."

"Well I'll have you know, missy, that my superior—"The boy's face suddenly changes. He was a fool. "Actually…you're right, he wouldn't. Maybe we should…go. Yes, I think that's a good idea. Let's go!"

Daveth climbs into the boat and takes her hand to help her, and she doesn't want to acknowledge how he's not really looking at her, at least not how he used to. It's more like the night they'd met. His usual attitude is not present, and she can't blame him: demons aren't exactly her idea of fun either, killing them maybe, but still…

She needed the mages' help, the mages were dangerous but powerful, and even though the templars were trained to kill them if necessary it didn't change what the treaty said. She wouldn't assist them in killing the survivors; she didn't trust Greagoir's word enough for that.

The moment the heavy doors closed – and locked – behind them, Jenji turned to Daveth.

"Listen, about…what I told you last night," Maker, why was this so difficult? She couldn't… "Please, don't…don't tell anyone else. I'm just…not ready for them to know yet."

"Doesn't Alistair know? He was at the Joining too."

"I don't think he remembers, and if he does he hasn't said anything." And she was thankful for it too. "I can't blame him though, he lost everything at Ostagar." The elf looked away, her eyes straying to the bodies of templars and mages alike strewn about the hall. "You're the only one who I've told now, besides I guess Harvey. I just don't want the whole party to see me as…" she smiled slightly, "…Jenny."

"I promise." He said.

"Pinky promise…?"

"Of course." He agreed, smirking, but then what was a promise among thieves?

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Alistair was surprised at how easily the undead were…well, dead again. They were sort of like darkspawn in a way, soulless vessels for demons. The sun rose and they still had over half of the militia, but that didn't mean their job was done: they still had to secure the castle.

He was about to head to the windmill to speak with Bann Teagan when he noticed Leliana was gone. She was the type to wander off though, and he found her talking to a man who had been yelling about repentance or something a moment ago,

"The Maker loves us all. Your wife is with Him. He knew her heart, even if she did not know it." Alistair heard the bard say.

"How…can you be so certain?" the man asked quietly.

"Because the Maker sent me a vision, He stretched out His hand to show me the path I should follow, and now I am here. That is no accident. I was meant to help people such as yourself, and your wife would want you to be happy." Leliana smiled.

"Leliana, I hate to interrupt such a touching moment, but we have to go kill a castle full of zombies." Alistair said as he approached.

"Oh, of course; Goodbye and may Andraste bring you peace." The Orlesian said as she got up to leave.

"Thank you…" the villager sighed. "You…are an angel."

Leliana just giggled at that.

It was up to them to sneak into the castle and do…something. He hadn't liked the idea of sending Bann Teagan and Lady Isolde in alone but he had little choice: Lady Isolde was being as kind and rational as ever and no one could say 'no' to the Arlessa.

But, he'd vowed to save all of them…and that was exactly what he was going to do.

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"You have no idea what it's like…the templars are always watching…_always_. We just wanted our freedom, and some of us were willing to do anything. Words weren't enough…so we took action." The blood mage spoke softly. She lay on the ground, staring up passed Jenji's dagger.

"And look at all the pain you've caused. People have died, blood mage, because of your _actions_." Wynne scolded.

"I know," she lamented. "We never wanted any of this. But when Uldred returned from Ostagar...he was changed…We could see it but we were too afraid to speak up. If we told the templars….they'd find out what we had been planning and then…" she shook her head. "We weren't blood mages before that. He forced us to do his bidding, forced us to accept his 'gift'."

"What exactly has Uldred become?" Jenji inquired.

The woman ran a hand through her hair nervously. "I…I don't know…I never saw…that _thing_. It's not human, I'm sure of it. The Circle teaches you to recognize a demon, but whatever it is, it isn't him…maybe Uldred's in there somewhere, I don't know."

"What makes you suspect it's a demon?"

"He…he was always aggressive, determined…so determined, but he was good to us before. Now he treats us like the opposition, as if we are a liability." She looked almost betrayed. Jenji was no expert on the subject, but she didn't think that sounded like demonic corruption.

"And what do you get from this?"

"I just want my life; I know I've no reason to expect any mercy from you…but please…I never wanted to hurt anyone…You don't know what Uldred has become! Let me live, and I-I will devote my life to the Chantry, anything!" the mage was almost in tears.

"Then go…if you can escape the templars, you deserve freedom." Jenji said.

"Are you sure?" Wynne asked her. "What makes her any different from the others?"

"Wynne, come off your high horse for a second and look at her." The elf snapped. "You see a blood mage, but all I see is a woman who was willing to fight for what she believed in when no one else would and even her fellow mages would have sold her out for their own gain."

The Senior Enchanter's jaw dropped.

"Thank you," the mage said, scrambling to her feet. "The Maker will smile upon you for your mercy."

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_What would Jenji do?_

Alistair stood in the dungeon of Castle Redcliffe, listening to a blood mage – _Jowan, he has a name, templar_ – beg to be released so he can supposedly make things right.

He'd admitted to poisoning the Arl, but not the summoning demons bit…maybe he was telling the truth…

Templar training aside, lets pretend for a second that he's not a blood mage. He's a prisoner, and probably willing to say pretty much anything that will get him set free or just not killed.

But something about that theory just didn't fit. No, either he was very manipulative, or Jowan was being honest.

"This is a mage," Sten said when Alistair asked everyone their thoughts on what should be done. "The world would be better off to be rid of it." _Note to self: Sten should have been a templar._

"I say we release him, he really seems to want to help." Leliana said sweetly.

"We'll put it to a vote," Alistair declared. "Everyone who thinks we should let Jowan out, raise your hand." Sten of course did not, Leliana's hand shot up – she was clearly excited at the chance to cast her first official vote – and hesitantly, Jowan too raised his hand.

Well, that was good enough. Besides, Jenji had released Sten from his cage and he was a murderer. How bad could this be? It wasn't like Alistair was actually letting him escape.

"If anyone asks," Alistair said, opening the cell. "A walking corpse opened the door for you, okay?" Jowan nodded and ran from the dungeon.

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Jenji had decided that she never wanted to sleep again. Niall was right, this place – the Fade – drained you of everything, all hope, all despair, joy, sorrow, love, hate; gone.

She wasn't even sure if she was going the right way anymore, the mazes seemed to shift slightly every time she got even remotely closer to figuring it out. The only constant was the murky, green sky overhead and of course the Black City.

The elf felt most comfortable as a mouse, truth be told. She was able to tread the shadows as she pleased and use the ever-changing terrain to her advantage.

She walked through fire, opened doors that only existed in the mind, flung boulders at ease, yet through it all what Jenji wanted more than anything was simply to wake up in her own body back in her own realm.

When she appeared in an area of the raw Fade and saw Wynne kneeling over a pile of broken bodies, all in mages' robes, she froze.

"Wynne…?"

"Maker…why was I spared when they were not. What is my purpose if not to save them? I failed…and now they are all dead." This was a nightmare, Jenji knew that, and shouldn't Wynne? She was a mage.

"They are not dead. The Circle can still be saved, but you need to fight. I know what this must feel like, but it isn't real." Jenji tried to get through to her.

"Isn't real?" Wynne scoffed. "How can you say that when you see it clear as day? Here they are, before your very eyes, dead…because of me."

"No, this is the Fade: it plays tricks on you, the Sloth demon wants you to believe it. Just think for a second." The elf urged.

"The Fade…? That does…sound familiar…" And suddenly the bodies weren't just bodies anymore, they were up and fighting. Jenji and Wynne made quick work of them.

Then she was alone again, and since she'd already woken her pet Mabari from his dream, there was only one left: Daveth.

And honestly, she was more than a little uneasy at the thought of what she might find.


	7. Innocence

"…_And inevitably what you used to be_

_Will succumb to the pull of gravity_

_And you will never know, you will never see_

_With virgin eyes again…"_

_- Missy Higgins, Unbroken_

He couldn't believe it.

Connor...a mage...

And then, suddenly, Connor...a _demon_...

No, something about that just didn't sit right either.

Lady Isolde looked about to breakdown at any moment, more than she already had that is, and Alistair supposed he couldn't blame her. This was her son, or part of him maybe, the part the demon didn't control if there was any. He knew the tricks demons could play, and even though he wouldn't normally suggest..._Maker_...even though he wouldn't normally suggest slaying a child under any circumstances. Well these weren't just any circumstances, were they?

"I don't know what we should do." Alistair admitted. And he could almost feel Sten's eyes on him, sizing him up.

"We have few options, I'm afraid. The situation looks...bleak." Bann Teagan said gravely.

And then, there was Jowan, ready to help in the way only a blood mage could.

"You, you did this, to my son, to my husband! I'll kill you!" The Arlessa wailed upon seeing him, sobbing as she sank to her knees. Jowan apologized but Alistair doubted she could hear him, until he said something about a ritual...

"The demon controls Connor from the Fade. I know of a ritual that would allow someone to enter the Fade and kill the demon, thus severing its hold on the child. It usually requires lyrium and several more mages." he explained. "I couldn't do it because I would be casting the spell but it would enable another mage to do so."

"What about the Circle? They have lyrium and mages. They could help us." Isolde pointed out.

"That's true," Alistair said slowly. "I have companions there - Wardens - who are assessing the situation at the Tower right now. If we wait for them-"

"-There isn't time," Teagan cut in. "If the Circle has truly been overwhelmed by abominations they would be in no shape to aid us now. Besides, there's no telling what that _thing_ is capable of given time."

"That 'thing' is still my son!"

"He is a demon, Isolde."

_Dammit, he's right._

"Then we must do the ritual. It is something, at least." Lady Isolde said in a much calmer voice than before.

"The only thing is," Jowan added hesitantly. "It _is_ blood magic, and therefore would require a great deal of someone's life energy...all of it, in fact."

Silence.

"Then I will be the sacrifice."

"Isolde, are you mad?"

"No, I am a mother, Teagan. And either my son must die or I give up my life so that Connor can live. To me, the choice is clear."

Isolde was too calm. The kind of calm that overtakes you when you've seen too much death and...

Alistair didn't know what to think. On one hand, it was blood magic and even though he and the Arlessa had never gotten along that great he certainly didn't want her dead, not really anyway. But Connor was just a child - an innocent - it really was the best option. Maker, he was deciding who would die...

Is this what it felt like to be a leader? His eyelids felt heavy and his stomach was tying itself in knots.

"Are you sure you're ready to die, Lady Isolde?"

"Is anyone? It's only a question of what I am willing to die _for_. And to save my son, I would gladly sacrifice myself a million times over."

It was something.

"But who shall enter the Fade?" Teagan asked.

No...

Alistair looked at the floor, his knees shaking.

Morrigan was gone...

_No!_

He had no choice.

As he ascended the stairs, he wondered-

No, forget what Jenji would do. This was about him. This was about the Arl, what would he say? What would Duncan say for that matter?

"You're here to kill me, aren't you?"

_It's a demon..._

"Will it hurt?"

_It's a demon, Alistair..._

"I remember you."

_It's a_-

That's when Lady Isolde came running, just a tad too late for the part where Connor had turned into a desire demon and tried to kill them all. Now the boy lay on the floor, human once again, and all Alistair could think was how this must look. Maybe she thought he was dead already.

"No, please stop...I order you to stop!" the Arlessa cried. "What do you want from me? D-do you want me to apologize for your childhood? I will! I'll do anything...I'll give you riches...I'll...I'll..." she tugged at the fabric of her dress, trying desperately to undo the buttons and ribbons that secured the garment. When this failed, she sobbed harder. Alistair's eyes widened. "_Anything_...just don't hurt my baby!"

"Parshaara, this woman is keeping us from reaching our goal." Sten stepped forward...and knocked Lady Isolde out cold.

Alistair's eyes refused to take in the sight before him.

That's when he realized he couldn't do it.

He turned to Sten, his face pale. "I can't..." he said. His throat was suddenly dry. "You do it, please..."

The qunari grunted and unsheathed his sword with a grimace, because it wasn't really _his_ sword. All he saw was a demon, not to mention mage, but Alistair could have sworn he had hesitated for just a second. It was the kind of thought that made him think there might still be hope in this world.

Leliana buried her face in the Warden's chest. He couldn't watch either, shutting his eyes tight and trying to focus on something other than the crude, emotionless sound of the blade.

He concentrated on Leliana's soft sobs, and the red of her hair rather than the red of Connor's blood.

Isolde regained consciousness, and for a blissful moment she seemed to have forgotten where she was or at very least how she came to be here. But then she saw Alistair, and her eyes darkened.

"What have you done?" she demanded, her voice a low and dangerous growl.

"Only what we must." Sten replied.

..._What have I done?_

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Jenji could feel something digging into her back.

It was Morrigan's shoe.

Not that it was ideal to wake up on the cold hard ground of course, but waking up by someone kicking you really made it worse. She didn't feel like she'd slept. Her head was groggy and the elf rubbed her eyes.

"Ah, taking a little nap I see." Morrigan teased.

"What are you doing here? I sent you with Alistair."

"And he is a fool. I would not follow him on what might as well be a suicide mission to save a small village of ungrateful peasants." the Witch spat.

"So you left?"

"Obviously, or I would not be here." Morrigan snorted. "Better that than waste my time on a pointless errand. Besides, you are our leader and thus I follow you. Mother instructed me to do so, I have pledged no allegiance to the templar nor do I owe him anything. Nothing is gained from helping those ingrates."

Maybe it wasn't the exact words Jenji would use, but she'd take the woman's word for it. She noticed the Witch had a book under her arm she'd never seen before and thought to ask about it later.

Once she was certain everyone else was no worse for wear, all eyes fell to the pile of robes crumpled on the floor: Niall. The piece of paper was still in his hand, that's all it was, a piece of paper. That was what all this had been for.

Now Jenji just had to make sense of the words written on it.

Mamae could read and write, even in Elvish, and Jenji knew only what she had taught her which was enough for the Alienage, but now...

"Here, you take it." She handed the Litany to Wynne. The healer took it without question.

And the blood mage had been right: she really didn't know what Uldred had become.

Jenji had only ever known one mage before becoming a Grey Warden. He was an elven boy she'd been more or less friends with as a child. Jenji was once climbing the great Tree, which was of course not allowed and for very good reason as it turned out. Somehow she lost her hold on the branch and fell.

The boy rushed to her side immediately. Jenji knew she'd broken something, probably several somethings in fact. Waves of sharp, agonizing pain shot through her body. She felt like she'd been stabbed by a flaming sword.

But then a soft blue light was surrounding her. It made her feel calm and safe, the scream died in her throat. He stared wide-eyed at his hands, and they both noticed the crowd that had formed around them, keeping its distance as if afraid. She heard murmurs from the elves; they all had the same look of shock that he did.

A woman stepped forward. Jenji recognized her as Mrs. Surana. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and she was saying the Chant. Even the Alienage had its fair share of pious folk.

Jenji didn't understand what was happening. She watched as men in plate armor who normally stood like statues outside the chantry pushed through the crowd and took her friend away. The other elves - his friends and neighbors, people who had watched him grow up - looked downcast, avoiding his eyes as he cried for help. But the pain hit her at full force once more and the world dissolved.

Mamae tried to explain to her that those men were templars, sworn warriors of the Chantry, and it was their job to find mages and lock them all up in a tower where they are watched constantly for any signs of corruption from malicious spirits of the Fade. Her friend was one such mage.

Jenji had tried to imagine such a place.

"Is it sort of like the Alienage, Mamae?" she had asked.

Adaia then smiled sadly. "Yes, Da'len. It is a prison and a safe haven both. They are protected from the world as much as the world is protected from them...but they are not free to choose another way."

"Are there any mages outside of the Tower? Like the Dalish?"

"The Dalish have mages, yes. It is an old magic, passed down in each clan from the wisest of our elders. It is a magic of the earth itself, a blood bond with nature. The Chantry may try to stop this practice, but the Dalish never stay in one place for very long, and often disappear before the templars can do anything." Mamae paused. "There are..._others_ who prefer freedom to the confines of the Circle. They are called apostates and are branded as a threat to themselves and those around them because they could become maleficarum or abominations...and sometimes this is true...but more often than not..."

She stopped speaking and took in the confused look on her daughter's face, then smiled. "All you need to know is that your little friend has been taken to a place where he will learn to control his magical ability, as well as read and write. In the Tower, elves and humans are seen as equals."

"I think what those men do is mean." Jenji had declared. "They should let the mages out for a little while at least."

Mamae became very serious. "We live in a world full of fear and hatred brought on by people's ignorance and unwillingness to change. What I'm trying to say is, we mustn't hate them, Da'len. It's all they know, and we should teach by example."

"But sometimes we have to fight, right Mamae?"

"That's right, dear girl, sometimes we have to fight."

"I think I understand."

Wynne would tell her that her friend had survived whatever the super secret test known as the Harrowing was. Apparently a human called Amell had not been so fortunate. She was a shy girl with a weak heart, Wynne said, and his only friend at the Circle. It had been his own distrusting nature that had allowed him to see through the Fade's trickery. No one knew what had happened next.

And Jenji half-expected to find his body thrown aside like all the others, even if she wouldn't recognize him after all this time.

The demon was larger than an ogre. It stunned her, dagger in hand; and all she could do was stare in horror. She watched and waited, for what, she didn't know.

Jenji wasn't sure how, but the creature that had been Uldred was dead. Maybe it was Morrigan's frost spells or Wynne's healing or her and Daveth's...whatever they did. Who knows, maybe it was the dog or Andraste's divine protection.

Either way, they had their promise of assistance, and a new friend.

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So a qunari, an Orlesian bard, and an ex-templar Grey Warden bastard prince walk into a tavern...

No, it wasn't the beginning of a bad joke. It was literally all he could think to do now. No one spoke - no one needed to - they just drank.

Alistair thought back to the only Harrowing he'd ever attended - Well, maybe that wasn't the right word exactly. The girl had been so frightened, he could see it. He watched as the more experienced templars took her from her bed to the Harrowing Chamber in the dead of night. It was...horrible. She was there one moment, and gone the next. She - or it - stared up at him with huge violet eyes...unnatural, wicked, sinister eyes. Luckily he hadn't been the one to strike her down. What had got him most though was the stillness...

And this time he couldn't bring himself to do it either. Connor was a child, and - in some way - he was family, maybe not technically, but...

Maker, what would Arl Eamon say? Had he done the right thing? So it was the only option, did that make it okay by default?

Bann Teagan had assured him they could stay at the castle for as long as they needed. But how could they? The place was like a tomb. He could feel the lingering energies of dark magic. That was the only way to describe it, it chilled your heart.

He needed a drink.

That's when the door swung open...and it was Jenji! Oh, he'd never been happier to see her in his life. Alistair wanted to hug the elf but he knew that would be inappropriate.

Then the rest of their party entered: Daveth, and Harvey, and a robed woman he'd never seen before; and...Morrigan. Ohh, he'd kill her. Yep, the little bitch was going to die.

"Can I get you anything this evening?" Bella the tavern girl asked Jenji.

"Well that depends a great deal on who is paying, doesn't it?"

"Uh, she's with us." Alistair said.

"Heroes drink free," Bella informed her with a grin.

"In that case," Jenji raised an eyebrow at the waitress' statement, "I'll have gin."

She noted how her companions looked as though they'd seen a ghost. Leliana was picking her nails and staring off into a space, her eyes red. Alistair looked like he was trying to light Morrigan on fire with his eyes, and Sten just seemed...too quiet.

"All right...clearly I've missed something here. Someone start talking."

And of course by 'someone' she'd meant 'Alistair'.

"There was undead attacking the village. We killed them, no thanks to Morrigan I might add. When we entered the castle we discovered that the Arl's son had been possessed by a demon. We had no choice but to...slay him." He stared at his drink. "That's the short version anyway."

"It was the right thing to do," their leader stated after a time. He'd been sure she was going to hit him, or at least yell at him. If she had done something like this he certainly would have had a few choice words for her on the matter.

"I—what…?"

"You heard me." she said, sipping her gin in a very unladylike fashion.

"So who is your friend?" Leliana interrupted, unable to resist asking any longer. Jenji looked confused or a moment before she remembered what the bard meant.

"Oh, right." she cleared her throat and announced in her most official sounding tone: "Everyone, this is Wynne of the Circle of Magi. She's a healer, and will be coming along on our little adventure. Wynne, this is everyone." Leliana clapped, Morrigan pouted - or her version of pouting anyway which mostly just looked angry - and Alistair was slightly more uncomfortable which he'd thought pretty much impossible a moment ago.

"Thank you for the introduction." Wynne smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"So tell me Alistair, were you discreet?" Jenji asked suddenly. The templar didn't understand.

"Well...we saved the village; we...I-I don't know...what you mean."

The woman sighed. "We need help, but it's not promised to us here. There is no treaty that guarantees Redcliffe's support, especially considering the state its in. And there's still a bounty on our heads. We can't afford to take risks, political or otherwise right now."

"What are you say-"

"-I believe she's referring to that," Bella gestured to the elven man in the corner, slumped over his ale trying his best not to be noticed. Had he been listening to them? "I think he's hiding something myself."

Jenji nodded and got up, walking briskly towards the suspicious individual. Leliana followed for some reason, and he couldn't help but notice how Daveth's eyes lingered just a little too long.

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Berwick spotted the two women approaching him and said gruffly, "I'm not looking for company, even from two lovely ladies such as yourselves."

That wouldn't do. Suddenly Jenji's dagger was a little too close for comfort. "What's your name?" the Warden demanded.

"Whoa! Hey, easy now!" He nearly spilled his ale. "B-Berwick is my name."

"Do I have to ask or are you just going to tell me what you been up to?"

"I-I've done nothing wrong, I swear! I'm just...waiting for my brother. Yes, that's it, honest." But she wasn't fooled.

"You don't seem sure about that." Leliana observed.

"I think I know my own life, lady. Look, I wasn't told to talk to anyone so just leave me alone."

"I knew it!" Leliana exclaimed. "I know a spy when I see one."

"What were you told to do then?"

"I wasn't...I didn't...I won't tell you anything, even if you are a Grey Warden." Berwick said. The woman frowned. How did he know she was a Warden?

"This will be a lot easier if you just tell me what you know."

"I don't know anything! They told me to watch to the castle and report back if there were any changes, only I haven't been able to do that yet because of the attacks on the village! I don't even know what's happening at the castle."

"Who told you this?"

"I got this letter...I just thought I was helping my country, serving the king. I was in it for the coin mostly but...Just please just don't hurt me!"

"No promises," Jenji muttered.

It was clear he wasn't a real threat to them. Perhaps he knew more than he was letting on, there was always a chance of that, but there really was little they could do. She could kill him, but that would just rouse the suspicions of whoever had hired him anyway. It would be the same outcome as if they'd let him go.

She strode over to Alistair and whispered, "That is precisely what I mean." The elf handed him the letter. Alistair unfolded the parchment and read:

_Berwick, _

_We need your eyes and ears in Redcliffe. _

_Stay in the village, keep your head down, and watch the castle. _

_Report any changes, and you'll be well paid. _

It wasn't signed. Well, this was bad.

It was clear they all had a lot more catching up to do, and so they left the tavern bound for Castle Redcliffe.

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"So...let me get this straight," Alistair started. "You think this Berwick fellow was hired by Loghain to keep tabs on us?"

"I do," Leliana confirmed. She was, after all, an expert on such things.

"We should get out of Redcliffe as soon as we can." Jenji added. "We must find the Dalish, it will be harder to track us in the middle of the forest."

"What about Arl Eamon?"

"It is likely he was poisoned. The Urn of Sacred Ashes may be our only shot to cure him." the bard explained gently.

"If we wait much longer the Dalish will have moved north and we won't find them." Jenji argued.

"And if we wait to find the Ashes Arl Eamon could die!" Alistair snapped. Jenji merely sighed.

"I won't go chasing a legend, not when we have real allies to collect. We need an army, Alistair, not a noble."

"You don't understand!"

"Shut up, both of you!" Leliana shrieked. A stunned silence ensued. "We will take a vote. Everyone who thinks we should go to the Dalish first, raise your hand."

Jenji, Morrigan, and Sten raised their hands. That left Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne. Harvey was asleep under the table.

"We're tied."

They all looked at each other, uncertain.


	8. Trust

"_To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved."_

She was angry at him, that much Daveth knew.

She was angry because he hadn't known whether they should seek out the Dalish or the Urn of Sacred Ashes first.

And his vote would have broken the tie.

That night at camp was tense to say the least. Daveth, Wynne, and Leliana found themselves practically forced into one tent to avoid being caught in the middle of all the arguing.

Because as it happened, she was more angry at Alistair.

"Alistair, I will not explain this to you again." They'd heard that before. "We're wanted criminals in Denerim. You said it yourself."

"I know that but—"

"Look," Jenny's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "I promise you that after we find the Dalish, we will go speak with this scholar and see what he knows about the Ashes." There was a pause. "Alistair, my family lives in Denerim. Do you not think that if it weren't a very important matter that I would pass up a chance to see them again?"

Silence: that was new.

He honestly didn't know what they should do. On one hand, Jenny was their leader and it did make sense to go after the closest ally, but he also understood why Arl Eamon's help could be a useful card to play in the future.

And he understood why she was so reluctant. The real reason, the one she wasn't as willing to share.

Jenny was scared. She was scared to go back there. Scared to face her past; and why wouldn't she be?

Leliana groaned and buried her face in a pillow. "This is going nowhere! We need to march right out there and tell them to compromise."

"I think Jenny's winning." Daveth said, smiling.

"I don't care who wins. I just want them to stop this silly arguing." The bard pouted.

"Ah, children…" Wynne sighed.

"Wynne, can't you do something?" Leliana asked.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I'm afraid this is something they must work out amongst themselves."

The Orlesian groaned again.

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By morning they had their answer. Jenny had won, and Alistair didn't seem too happy about it.

The Brecilian Forest was just a few hours walk. At some point, Leliana fell into step beside Jenny.

"So, I'm wondering something, Jenji." The bard began. "Do you believe in the Maker?" Oh, judging how this conversation had gone with Morrigan, this was going to be bad.

"I used to." The elf said. Leliana bit her lip, not needing to ask the question.

"I…" Jenny went on. "I lost my faith, okay? Let's just leave it at that."

They continued on in silence.

That is, until…

"Oh! You have to help us! They attacked the wagon, please, follow me." The woman turned on her heel and ran down the road. Their leader glanced back towards her companions. They all knew it was a trap, however, it was intriguing.

An ambush…Only too planned, too organized, too…clean an attack.

"This one still lives," Morrigan said, narrowing her eyes in disgust.

"That could be easily rectified." Sten added.

"Wait," Jenny cut in, "wake him up. He could be our only chance to find out whose behind this, however, I have my suspicions already."

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Daveth didn't like Zevran.

Sure, there was no real reason why he shouldn't like the Antivan, besides perhaps the obvious one of the whole attempted assassination thing. And if Jenny could forgive him, why shouldn't he?

Ever since he'd joined their party all Zevran had done was flirt with, well, pretty much everyone, but especially Jenny. And that was Daveth's job. It was _his_ job to make her laugh. It was _his_ job to protect her.

He had to admit though; they did have much in common. Both Zevran and she were elves, their mothers had both been Dalish…

What could he do?

Before they knew it they had found the Dalish elves. It wasn't really as hard as it was said to be. They were stopped by an elven woman, her bow trained on them, eyes unblinking.

"State your business, stranger." She demanded.

Jenny stepped forward. "I am Jenji Tabris of the Grey Wardens. I seek audience with your Keeper."

Something changed in the woman's face. "Ah, I suppose you are here regarding the Blight then. Very well, follow me. But remember: you are outsiders, elven or otherwise, you are not one of us." The Warden simply nodded.

The challenge had not been finding the Dalish, the challenge would be what the Dalish required of them before they would offer their assistance. Slaying a werewolf - let alone a leader of werewolves - was no easy task he was willing to bet. But it had to be done.

They'd spent three days lost in the Forest when he began to worry.

They were wandering around in circles.

One night they set up camp by a stream - Daveth was certain they'd passed it six times by now but he had stopped counting after that - when Zevran approached Jenny almost cautiously; almost.

"My dear Warden," he said. "I do believe you have been under a great deal of stress lately. Perhaps a massage would relax you, no?" Did he just wink?

The other elf seemed to consider the offer for a moment. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?" She asked.

"I am only suggesting what I have said: a night of pleasure for us both, no strings attached. As for where it might lead, well that is up to you." He had to be kidding. There was no way Jenny would ever—

"Fair enough," What? No…she wouldn't… "Perhaps you're right, I do deserve to relax."

She couldn't…he couldn't let this happen. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

_Maker_, he thought, _I bloody love her._

It was now or never. And well, 'in for a silver in for a crown' as his dear mum used to say.

"You shouldn't…go to your tent…with him."

"Oh?" She was surprised.

Even Zevran seemed taken off guard by this.

"Oh." She turned to Zevran and whispered something Daveth didn't quite hear. The assassin left her side, returning to his own tent. No hard feelings? Unlikely, but it was good to be optimistic.

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"'Tis a rhyming tree." Morrigan remarked. "Now I've seen everything."

The task the tree sent them on was an odd one. But what hadn't been odd recently? After more than a week of forests and madmen, Daveth began to miss Denerim and its crowded streets, buildings, people...coin…

Luckily, they found the werewolves' lair, fought their way passed beasts and men, and eventually reached their goal.

"Kill them! They are here by order of the Dalish. They will bring only trouble." One of the werewolves snarled.

"Quiet. They are not one of them, and even so, I do believe enough blood has been shed already." The…spirit spoke softly, calmly, almost sadly.

"…yes, Lady, as you say."

If there was one thing Jenji didn't like, it was being betrayed. She'd learned that the hard way.

But then…she knew what Zathrian felt. She would kill Vaughan over and over and over if given the chance, because he deserved no less. But these werewolves were not the ones who had harmed Zathrian's children. And now his own people were suffering, and she was forced to make this decision while the whole world waited and a Blight ravaged the land.

Vengeance, she could understand. But vengeance at the cost of hurting those you cared about? That was when it was just too much.

"Zathrian, don't you think this has gone on long enough?" It was perhaps a foolish question: of course he didn't.

"No. Not until these creatures suffer as I have. You are not Dalish, you know nothing of us." The man accused.

"But who's suffering now? Your people," Jenji said quietly. "I'm sorry, Zathrian, but you're wrong."

"Please, end the Curse, not just for me and mine, but for the Dalish. No one should have to go through this. It's not worth it, Zathrian. We must let spirits rest." The Lady reasoned.

"I…" he kept his eyes to the floor. "Perhaps it is time…to end it."

The Lady smiled.

And in a flash of light and strange magic Jenji had never seen before, both the Keeper and spirit had vanished. The werewolves had become men once more, and oddly enough seemed no worse for wear by their affliction.

Finding the Dalish camp again was far easier than before. Perhaps breaking the Curse had drained the life from the forest, spirit life that is.

Lanaya didn't seem very surprised to learn that Zathrian was gone. The Dalish were overjoyed to have everyone well again, and the welcomed the Wardens and their companions much more warmly now.

"If there is anything we can do for you—"

"Your aid against the Blight will be enough."

"But surely there must be something else." Lanaya insisted. "You have proven yourselves friends to the Dalish, which is not easy. We take care of our friends."

"Well, there is something…"

A time later, Jenji exited Keeper Lanaya's aravel, the symbol of the Grey Wardens tattooed above her right breast.

Of course, the Dalish were not like the ones from Mamae's tales. But they were still kind folk once you had earned their trust, and what more could she ask for?

The look on Alistair's face when he saw her new tattoo was priceless.

"Tomorrow," she said, "we head for Denerim."

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"Daveth…?"

He looked up from the fire to see none other than Jenny, and she seemed…nervous.

"I wanted to…thank you," the elf managed, "…for stopping me from making a huge mistake the other day." Oh, so that's what this was about.

"Don't mention it." He grinned.

Before he knew what was happening, she had flung her arms around him, hugging him like there was no tomorrow.

And he began to think that maybe there was a chance, if just the smallest fraction of a chance, that she could possibly feel the same—

"You're a good friend." Jenny whispered.

-Or maybe not.


	9. Rivalry

"_Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature."_

_- Flemeth_

Jenji was still a bit nervous about returning to Denerim, and she could tell Daveth was too. Neither of them had really left on the best of terms, and now they still had a warrant out for their arrest.

She found herself walking towards the Alienage gates. It was practically involuntary, like a puppet being strung along a certain path.

"Not so fast." The guard warned as they approached. "The Alienage is closed." He sounded weary, as though he'd said all this before and had grown tired of it.

"What do you mean 'the Alienage is closed'?"

He sighed. "By order of the new arl of Denerim, Arl Rendon Howe, _the Alienage is closed_."

All right, so that's all they were getting out of this one then.

Determined for get to the bottom of this, Jenji set off down a narrow side street. It scaled the eastern wall of the Alienage, opening up to reveal two rows of small houses on either side. In many ways, the neighborhood reflected the conditions of the Alienage itself.

They walked a short distance, Jenji keeping her eyes fixed on the houses in the shadow of the high stone wall – she knew exactly where she was going.

"I hate to question the authority of our fearless leader," Alistair said cautiously, "but shouldn't we be looking for this Brother—"

"—No…This first. There will be time for that too." The elf said simply. "Just trust me."

Alistair shrugged, unable to shake the feeling that they were being watched.

Eventually, they came to what they'd been looking for. It was a modest wooden house much like the others built near the end of the road. Jenji went up to the door and knocked twice.

The loud noise in the otherwise fairly quiet neighborhood – well, perhaps it was more akin to a slum – startled a few dogs. The door opened to reveal a child, a girl about eight or nine years old.

"I need to speak with Ms. Kay, please. Can you get her for me?" Jenji asked sweetly.

The girl looked them over for a second before disappearing back into the house. She returned moments later with an elderly woman in tow. She couldn't have been much older than Wynne. She had a firm jaw and kind eyes, which seemed only slightly dull and tired.

Upon seeing who was at the door though, her face lit up. "My word, Jen, it really is you! We all thought…well, it's not important. Come in! Come in!"

The house was somehow larger on the inside. There had to be at least ten children ranging from infancy to maybe twelve years of age, though that's when Alistair lost count.

The woman – Ms. Kay apparently – led them to a table where they were all made to sit.

"Laela, quick put the kettle on or something." Ms. Kay ordered. "We have company! And this ain't just any company either: it's your Aunt Jen." The girl who had answered the door nodded.

Wait, _Aunt_ Jen?

Jenji saw the confused expressions and quickly explained herself. "After my mother died, I ran away for three days. I came here, and Ms. Kay was so nice to me. Over the years I returned occasionally. So, to repay her, sometimes I'd…direct orphaned children her way. Without her, they'd end up on the streets or worse. She gives them a better life: something they wouldn't have otherwise."

Well, that sounded good but…

"I was like a grandmother to you." Ms. Kay chuckled.

"Oh please, you still are." Jenji assured her.

"So it's like an orphanage then?" Alistair asked.

"Oh no, no, no," Ms. Kay shook her head. "Orphanages take in children 'til they come of age, then cast 'em out into the world. We don't do that here."

The child named Laela brought them all cups and a clay pitcher of water. Alistair obligingly took a drink.

"Wait, Alistair that's not-" Jenji attempted to hide the laughter when he choked. "—water."

"Maker's Breath, what is wrong with you people?" he was not amused, but in his defense, it was well before noon.

Ms. Kay chuckled. "Welcome to Denerim, son," she said.

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Eventually everyone had settled back down, had their drinks – or respectfully declined as in Alistair's case. Leliana, Zevran, and Sten had left to find Brother Genitivi, and Wynne was helping with the children while Ms Kay spoke with Jenji.

"What have I missed in the city?" the Warden asked.

Kay was slightly amused they had come to her for the latest news on current events. "Well, news reached us of Ostagar 'round the same time Loghain returned with what was left of the army an' took power on the queen's behalf. As you can imagine, things have been rather one sided since then."

"What do you mean?"

"The city's torn between mourning its own and finding someone to blame. Usually they blame the Wardens, not without Loghain's encouragement mind you." The woman shook her head.

"And you don't believe him?" Alistair asked. Ms. Kay seemed almost offended.

"Ha! I'll believe it when I see it. I've been around a long time, son, and I'd be hard pressed to find a Grey Warden who would abandon his king and his brothers to the darkspawn, let alone a whole army of 'em." Her eyes narrowed. "No, there's just somethin' a little too convenient 'bout Loghain Mac Tir's story. He ain't the hero I remember. In fact, if you ask me, I think he's gettin' too old to have that much power."

Alistair liked her. She was a little scary, but generally, he liked her.

"Yep, we're the last three Wardens in Ferelden: lucky us." Jenji sighed. Ms. Kay knew she meant Alistair, Jenji herself, and Daveth. She nodded.

The elf's face changed suddenly and she asked, "Seriously, Kay, what's happening in the Alienage?"

Kay's face became grave yet unreadable. "After Ostagar, we all…assumed the worst when it came to your survival. Howe was made the new arl…and that's 'bout when the riots started."

Ms. Kay saw the look on the elf's face and grasped her hand.

"No one blames you, Jen. You did what had to be done. Don't ever question that."

But she did.

She remembered Vaughan's taunting words: _'The streets will run red with elven blood._'

After a second, Kay continued. "At first the riots were nothin' the city guard couldn't handle, just a few isolated incidents here and there." She explained. "But then something happened. I'm not sure exactly what since no one has been allowed in or out since, my guess would be a plague or something. Nothing's changed that I know of anyway. Whatever's going on inside them gates, only the Maker is certain…I'm sorry, Jen."

She'd expected as much, but that didn't make it any easier to hear.

It was beginning to get rather dark by the time the rest of their party had returned with news regarding Brother Genitivi's whereabouts. The three Wardens had been sitting in Ms. Kay's kitchen all day.

She only had to take one look at them to know they'd been in a fight.

"What happened?" the Warden demanded.

"We went to the Brother's house, and there was a man there." Leliana said.

"His skills as a mage far surpassed his skills as an actor, as it were." Zevran added, revealing a burn on his arm, which Wynne set to work healing immediately.

"I don't understand."

"Something's happened to Brother Genitivi. Since the man was clearly stationed there to ward off suspicion we can safely assume everything he told us was a lie." Leliana said. "The trip wasn't entirely a waste of time however, we did find Brother Genitivi's research notes; along with the body of the real Waylon - that was the name of Genitivi's servant who was being impersonated by the mage."

Well, this was troubling.

Leliana spread out the notes on the table. They spoke of a village far to the southeast called Haven. It was as good a lead as any, and may even help them find the Ashes, if Brother Genitivi was still there of course. They could only hope whoever it was that had killed his servant had not gotten to him yet as well.

Jenji supposed they should head out as soon as possible. Time could cost them both Arl Eamon's and Brother Genitivi's lives; but Ms. Kay had different ideas. It was awfully dark outside, and it would be nice to sleep in a proper bed again...

"And you're sure you're all right with this?"

"Of course, dear, it's no trouble at all. And Wynne seems quite fond of the children." Kay remarked as she prepared their rooms.

"So," the old woman rubbed her hands together excitedly. "Girls in this room, boys down the hall." She declared, only to look slightly embarrassed when she saw their puzzled faces. "Sorry, I'm used to dealing with my children is all."

It was Wynne who spoke up first. "Is there a reason you've separated the sleeping quarters by gender?"

"Well of course: nobody's gonna be makin' any babies in my house. For one, I got enough of 'em already, and y'know what the Chantry says 'bout that kind of thing I'm sure. I ain't gonna be bringin' no bolts of lightning down on the whole neighborhood if I can help it." she smiled, and to this day none of them knew whether or not she was joking.

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"Pleeeaassse..." Leliana begged.

"No."

"Why not…?"

"Because, Leliana, my hair is fine the way it is, you said so yourself." Jenji said firmly.

"Yes; but it could be even better!"

"Will both of you just shut up? I swear, one could easily mistake you for one of the children in this wretched little hovel." Morrigan snarled from her place in the room as far away from the others as possible. Wynne had quietly read for half an hour or so before going to bed, and since then the other women had continued on in this fashion.

"Then tell Jenji to stop being so stubborn." the bard pouted.

Morrigan scoffed. "I will not, for I too find it difficult to imagine why someone would want you touching their hair so. Now either cease your obsession with our Warden's tresses or begone."

The Orlesian continued to sulk silently. like a child who hadn't gotten her way. "I bet the boys are having more fun." she muttered.

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"Well I think you look beautiful." Daveth teased.

"Indeed, the ladies love a man whose comfortable enough in his masculinity to wear women's clothing. It's not my thing personally, but I applaud you, my friend, for your courage." Zevran smirked.

"I hate you all." Alistair muttered, staring down at the garment, practically glaring at it. They'd found the dress hanging in the closet. They supposed it was Ms. Kay's - which only made it worse somehow - and it had probably at one time been a bridesmaid's outfit.

"Daveth," Zevran said, "your turn: truth or dare?"

Knowing what the assassin would ask, Daveth had picked dare up until this point. But Maker help him, even that inevitable question was preferable to anything else involving Alistair's socks.

"Truth,"

Zevran pretended to really think about what he was going to ask. Finally the Antivan looked him right in the eye and spoke. "What exactly is the nature of your relationship with our lovely Warden? And I don't mean Alistair here, despite his deceiving appearance."

Damn, well so much for playing dumb then. "We're friends." Daveth replied evenly.

"Truly, just friends, is it? Ah, well surely you must desire more though. She is such a lovely woman after all."

"I don't see how it's any of your business." he snapped.

"If that is so," the elf hissed, "then I hardly see how it is any of your business what she and I do in the privacy of her own tent."

Tense silence fell. Alistair was feeling increasingly uncomfortable, not that the dress was helping matters much.

"She didn't even want to sleep with you, you know." Daveth shot back.

"Oh? And how might you know that I wonder?" the assassin was not intimidated.

"Because she told me so."

"And I suppose she would rather sleep with you then?" Alistair saw that glint in Zevran's eye. It was unmistakable.

His prey was cornered. "Well I-I mean...she…"

This was a crisis situation. He had to get help, he had to get Jenji. But wait: the dress, he was still wearing the dress! Dammit, he couldn't let anyone else see him like this. No, he had no choice - they'd kill each other if he didn't do something...But of course, he still had Sten!

"Parshaara!" the qunari growled, startling the two rogues. "You are acting like mere children, by fighting over a woman. Women have no place in fighting of any kind. They should only be fought for on the battlefield, not here in front of a man in a dress." It was...a strange way of putting it, but it seemed to get the point across.

Regardless, they both startled acting a lot more like men after that.


	10. Leadership

"_A good leader inspires people to have confidence in the leader; a great leader inspires people to have confidence in themselves."_

Between the usual nightmares and the occasional cry of one or more of the babies, sleep did not come easy.

Sometime before sunrise, Jenji slipped out of their room to get some air. Not expecting anyone to be awake for at least another hour, she was surprised to see Alistair also skulking about the house. And she was even more surprised to see what he was wearing.

Alistair decided now was the best time to go looking for his clothes, as surely no one would be up yet. He'd get them back for hiding them. Oh, who was he kidding, no he wouldn't.

What he didn't expect was to see Jenji, her face all painted in various shades and colors of Leliana's make-up, and her hair pinned up like a regular Orlesian noblewoman. It was quite the sight to behold really.

They exchanged a look that said quite frankly, 'if you don't ask, I won't.' and went on their way.

Sure enough, an hour later Ms. Kay popped her head in the room and announced that breakfast would be ready in ten minutes whether they were there or not. "Oh, and Jen, wash that stuff off your face and come help set the table." She added and shut the door behind her.

Leliana giggled. "She treats you like a child!"

"She's very set in her ways." Jenji explained. "She looks at me and still sees the frightened little girl who showed up on her doorstep. She means well."

They joined everyone else at the breakfast table. Alistair had found his clothes, she noted, and if she didn't know any better she might think that Daveth and Zevran were trying to sit as far away from one another as possible. What had she missed last night?

Trying to put that thought out of her mind, Jenji concentrated on the task at hand. Her companions were about to get an important lesson: breakfast, or any meal really, at Ms. Kay's was tricky. Above all you had to be quick, efficient, and aggressive if you wanted to eat at all.

Jenji even managed to sneak a few scraps to Harvey.

The plates were piled high with breads, meats, and dried fruits. A young girl said grace and then it was everyone for oneself.

It wasn't that everyone didn't get a fair portion of food, because somehow they did. There simply wasn't enough to go around; and you really had to want it.

Halfway through the meal, a boy who was maybe eleven walked into the kitchen. Ms. Kay looked up from her plate at the dark haired boy and smiled.

"You got something for me, dear?" She asked, holding out her hand. He gave her a silver bracelet, encrusted with diamonds and rubies. She nodded and smiled even wider.

"Well done. Now sit, eat, you've earned it." Kay said, examining the trinket closely. Then she asked, "Elthin, where's Meri?"

He thought for a moment. "I dunno, ma'am. I saw her leave the tavern with some boy."

"Not Vildar I hope." Ms. Kay frowned.

"No ma'am. Was someone I never seen before."

"Hmm…" she pursed her lips. "Well as long as it ain't that Vildar. I said it before, an' I'll say it again: that boy don't come from good stalk; I don't want my girls hangin' around with him." Elthin nodded in agreement. Ms. Kay spent the rest of the meal idly lifting the jewels from the bracelet with a sharp metal tool.

After the breakfast things had been all cleared away, Jenji decided they really must be getting on the road to Haven as soon as possible. The children were sad to see Wynne go.

Ms. Kay hugged Jenji and said goodbye. "And you really would be wise not to get yourself eaten by no dragons, you hear? You got to stop that blasted archdemon before it comes up here and ruins my shingles."

"I will."

"I'm just sayin', I've worked too long and too hard to have some dragon tear my roof off."

And with that, they left the city, thankfully undetected by any of Loghain's men.

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They'd all underestimated just how long it would actually take to get to Haven. And oh, how she hoped the village would live up to its name.

As they headed east and the weather got colder, everyone was a little more uneasy. There was just something about being here so far away from anything that made Jenji's skin crawl.

One of these nights, she found herself on watch with Leliana. And miraculously, the bard was awake.

"I've been thinking about what you said; about how you don't believe in the Maker…"

"If you're going to try and convince me otherwise, now is not the best time." Jenji warned.

"Oh no, that's not it at all! I just want to understand…why?" Damn those eyes of hers. Jenji sighed.

"I did believe once, but when you're young and society is telling you one thing while your own mother tells you another...what are you supposed to think?"

"She was Dalish, was she not?"

"She was; and I'm glad she shared so much of her culture with me. But when she died...well I just couldn't worship a god who would take a child's mother just because she didn't believe in Him."

"Oh."

Jenji looked away. "I do remember one verse from the Chant though:

_At Shartan's word, the sky_  
_Grew black with arrows._  
_At Our Lady's, ten thousand swords_  
_Rang from their scabbards,_  
_A great hymn rose over Valarian Fields gladly proclaiming:_  
_Those who had been slaves were now free_."

"Ohh, that's one of those—"

"—I know; it's not officially part of the Chant anymore, but it doesn't matter. Andraste may not have been a prophet, but She was a brilliant war leader. She made a promise to the elves, and just because Her faithful have forgotten that, doesn't make it any less true."

Leliana knew she was right, and she figured it didn't make a difference why the Warden was questing the Ashes. If not for faith, then at least there was something. After a while, she got the courage to ask her next question.

"Tell me about the Alienage. Was it very terrible there? Did you have family or friends?" she blurted out, the string of words hovering in the air beside the solemn echo of the Chant. The elf looked at her strangely.

"We faced many hardships, yes. But there was joy there, too. We all knew it could be a lot worse, that it was dangerous for us 'out there'. And we'd all heard stories about the 'savage' Dalish elves...and the Alienage in Orlais." Jenji met her eyes, and Leliana flinched.

She'd been about to say that, in her country, elves were taken in by wealthy nobles and treated well in exchange for various services. It was a preferable existence to life in the an Alienage, where thousands of elves were forced to live in a space no bigger than Denerim's market district and the thick stone walls were so high...

It seemed a stupid thing to mention now.

"I-I didn't mean to offend you…" And Jenji knew she didn't. Leliana may have been racist, but it was brought on by ignorance, not prejudice. It wasn't like Vaughan, who almost made you feel stupid for not agreeing with him. In fact, she almost pitied the bard.

"I know," she said simply.

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"This is pointless."

Jenji whirled around to face Sten. "What did you say?"

"I held my tongue while we toiled away valuable time in the old woman's sitting room, but no more. The archdemon is our goal, and we are avoiding it. We are headed in the opposite direction of Orzammar which is where we need to go to build an army."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd been the first to say this was a pointless errand, and now he had the nerve to question her competence as a leader.

"What do you want from me, Sten?" She hoped that sounded as good as it did in her head.

Apparently, it didn't. "I want you to stop running away." the qunari said.

Running away? How dare he accuse her of such a thing? "I am not running away."

That was the truth; wasn't it?

"Then prove it: turn around and face your enemy with dignity."

"…I can't do that." she said quietly, the words bringing a forced realization. Sten's hand went for his sword.

"Then face me in battle and prove your strength, or I am taking command."

Jenji blinked. "You would fight a woman? Doesn't that go against your Qun?" she asked, honestly wanting to know though it was also meant to intimidate.

"That depends only on whether or not you can fight." He stated. Well, that was good enough for her. Jenji drew her daggers and charged…

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She couldn't see a thing.

Barely aware, she thought she could feel her body being plunged into refreshingly cold water. She shivered as warm hands wrapped her up in a dry linen. Voices; she could hear voices…

…Her heart pounded in her ears.

Jenji came awake slowly, blinking a few times to make sure this was real. She stared up at the canvas of her tent, knowing it was hers because of the small tear in the fabric from the first night she had attempted to put it up; she hadn't exactly been the most experienced woodsman back then.

Looking slightly off to her right, she saw a low burning candle. Next to it was Wynne, slumped in a chair, sleeping maybe.

"Wynne…?" the Warden rasped, subsiding to a fit of coughing. Her eyes widened when she saw blood.

The mage bolted up like a sylvan brought to life. She sprung to her feet and was suddenly at Jenji's side, placing a cool hand on her forehead.

"Shhh, it's all right…" she soothed. It took Jenji a moment to realize what the healer meant. Finally she noticed how quickly she was breathing and tried to calm herself. "That's it, deep breaths…I know it's painful..."

That's when she became aware that everything hurt.

When she was able the Warden asked, "what happened? A-after I fell unconscious I mean."

Wynne frowned. "You're not ready to hear about that yet. Just concentrate on getting well. There will be time to discuss that later." she said.

_You toil away valuable time…_

"Please…t-tell me. I-I need to know." Jenji pleaded. "W-where is Sten?"

Wynne sighed. "After Sten rendered you unconscious, the rest of us all moved to defend you. He would have killed you otherwise. But he was weakened from your duel, and eventually yielded. He's gone now." the mage told her.

"…dead?" Wynne shook her head.

"He disappeared in all the confusion. We were trying to keep you alive, and he must have suspected he would be killed if he stayed. His wounds weren't severe however, so it is likely he still lives."

'If I were indeed hostile you would be bleeding.'

Well, so much for that.

Jenji was silent for a time. "You all saved my life." she said, not entirely speaking to Wynne. "Even though I couldn't beat him; even though I couldn't p-prove myself strong enough to be your leader."

The healer took her hand and smiled. "But you _are_ strong enough, Jenji. You survived."

And she always would.


	11. Rest

"_It is not good for all our wishes to be filled; through sickness we recognize the value of health; through evil, the value of good; through hunger, the value of food; through exertion, the value of rest."_

_- Dorothy Canfield Fisher_

On the first day, Jenji slept.

On the second day, she was restless. Logically, she knew she was in no physical condition to do anything but lie there; but that didn't stop her from complaining about it.

"Can't I just walk around a little bit? I promise I won't go far."

"No, you won't." Wynne agreed. "You're far too weak right now. You think you can do these things, but you have to understand that you just can't."

She hated being told what she could and could not do.

"And why not? It's not like my legs are broken." Jenji pointed out.

"No," the mage allowed, "but your ribs are."

"But can't you just, I don't know, magic them healed?" she whined, knowing the answer already.

Wynne frowned. "I'm sorry, dear, but not even magic can mend a collapsed lung. The best thing you can do right now is rest."

Rest: that's what she'd been saying all day, but dammit, Jenji didn't want to rest! She wanted to walk, she wanted to fight, she wanted to find the damn Ashes, and mostly she just wanted to do anything that wasn't lying down and waiting.

"What will it take to convince you?" the Warden asked. Uh-oh, she knew that devilish smile: Wynne had an idea that would torture her somehow.

"All right, here's the deal." the old woman said. "Take ten more deep breaths and I'll let you get up and fight darkspawn all you want."

That sounded easy enough, if it weren't for the injuries.

"_Ten?_" That was absurd.

"Ten."

Jenji gave up after three, the pain was too much. "You're a mean old lady." She pouted.

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Wynne said it would be weeks until Jenji could go back to what she did best: stopping the Blight.

On the third day, she was allowed visitors, as a distraction mostly from the boredom that came as a result of not being able to do much of anything.

Harvey was the first. He was clearly worried about her, and hadn't left her side since.

Alistair was her second visitor.

"I'll be right outside if you need me." Wynne said to both of them before leaving the tent, and they were alone. Alistair sat down in Wynne's chair. There was guilt in his eyes, she noticed. Of course he blamed himself for this too.

"Buck up, soldier." she smirked. "Why you look so sad?"

"I just...I can't believe we almost lost you...again." he admitted.

"Afraid you were gonna be left alone? Or worse, have to follow Daveth around."

"Heh. Yeah, something like that actually."

There was a short silence then. "I swear though, if I ever see Sten again I'll-" he started.

"I don't blame him." she cut him off, almost like she hadn't heard him at all.

"You...don't?" Alistair couldn't believe it. Jenji wasn't exactly known for her patience or forgiving nature, after all.

"Not really. I mean, I can't say I'm happy about this whole thing. But I think I get it now." For a second he thought she wasn't going to continue. "It's just his way. It's all he's been taught, He didn't intend to kill me, or even hurt me really. He just wanted to put me in my place - which he did I suppose." she smiled weakly. "What he didn't count on though, was the loyalty of my friends."

"You've always defended him." Alistair observed. Huh...she seemed to be taking this a little too well. It was...creepy.

"And why shouldn't I?" she questioned.

"Oh, I don't know...maybe because he killed an entire family?"

And of course, Jenji had an argument for that one, too. "He was scared, Alistair. His men were all dead and he'd lost his sword. He was alone in a strange land and could never go back home. What would you do?"

"Well I wouldn't just start killing people!"

"Maybe not you or me, but a qunari soldier might. Again, it's all he knew. I think he underestimates himself sometimes, and his strength. He didn't mean to kill those people; and he didn't mean to hurt me as bad as he did. That's why he ran."

_People are not simple..._

He stared at her. "You've been thinking about this a lot, haven't you?"

She shrugged. "Not much else to do. Besides," she added, referring to the last topic, "we're all killers."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that." he muttered.

But that alone didn't change the facts.

"You always have had a soft spot for people who have tried to kill you." He said.

"Not always..."

Others came to visit Jenji as well. Leliana had taken one look at her and ran off crying, Morrigan had insisted that the only reason she was there was regarding what she'd found in Flemeth's 'grimoire' which turned out not to be the real one, as it were. The Witch had practically refused to leave until Jenji promised to kill her mother. Not that it was a difficult promise to make seeing as how Flemeth was obviously a dangerous and mad abomination.

And if she thought she could just take over Morrigan's body, she would have to answer to Jenji's blade. Survival was one thing, but sometimes you just got greedy.

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"How is she?"

"Stubborn," Zevran replied. "She's been driving Wynne quite crazy, as I understand it."

Daveth smiled. He should have gone to see her a long time ago, but he just couldn't stand to see her like that. Jenny was supposed to unstoppable, invincible, or just not half dead.

"You should go to her, you know," Zevran said. Of course he knew. "She wishes that you would."

"She told you that?"

"She doesn't have to. Everyone knows there is no one in this world she would rather have by her side more right now than you. And despite my own interest in our fearless leader, I will not stand in the way of that."

Daveth wasn't sure what to say to that. In the end however, there was nothing to be said.

He pulled back the flap of canvas and slipped inside the tent. At first, he thought Jenny was asleep, but then she opened her eyes and gazed up at him.

"Hey..." she whispered.

"Hey," he returned.

"...I'm glad you're here."

"What are friends for?" there was only a hint of bitterness in those words. Still, her eyes sparkled.

"Less than this, I think." She murmured.

Wait, did that mean...?

He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that there was no way Jenny was mentally all there: Wynne had had her taking many strange herbs for the pain and such. But he liked to believe that she was lucid enough for this to mean something.

"I've had a lot of time to think, you know?"

"And what have you been thinking about?"

"A lot of things..." her eyelids fluttered, "…people..." her voice dropped off until he could scarcely hear it,"…love." Eyes shut, and she was out. She did need to rest, he figured. He wondered though just how much of that she'd really meant.

_Sweet dreams, Jenny._


	12. Snow

**A/N: **S'il vous plaît avis!

)O(

"_Draw your last breath, my friends,  
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.  
Rest at the Maker's right hand,  
And be Forgiven."  
__-Trials 1:16_

After two weeks, five days, nine hours, and seventeen minutes – there'd been little else to do but keep track – Jenji went against Wynne's advice and decided enough was enough. It was time to get back to work.

And just to their luck, Haven most certainly did not live up to its name.

This town was hiding something, and they definitely knew where Brother Genitivi was. And then, it just got better. The bloodied altar – which Morrigan, for whatever reason, could determine was human blood – the knight's corpse in the back of the local shop – he was from Redcliffe apparently - and of course there was the child with his equally disturbing little rhyme and lucky finger bone. In short, Jenji concluded that this was the creepiest place she'd ever been.

Then they found the rest of the villagers.

This was no ordinary Chantry sermon, unless things had changed that much since the last time Jenji had attended one.

For one thing, they had a Revered Father. Also, the sermon itself seemed to be focused solely on Andraste and had nothing at all to do with the Maker.

"I think we're far beyond pretending this is a normal village."

"By who's definition of 'normal'?" Father Eirik asked.

"Oh, you know, like blood rituals and killing innocent outsiders? Not normal." Alistair said lightly.

Eirik was tired of dealing with them by this point. "You are not the first to come here thinking that you know us, but you know nothing. We are Her guardians, we are Her protectors, we do only as She wills, and you shall not stop us."

This whole thing was starting to give Jenji a headache. She'd come here to find the scholar and hopefully the Ashes, not to argue with some paranoid cultists.

"We didn't come here to stop you," she tried to assure them. "we came here seeking Brother Genitivi."

"You will not find him!" the Revered Father shouted. "He wants to take Her away from us, he does not see what we see. It is our sacred duty and ours alone! Andraste will forgive us even in death!"

And at his word, the entire village was upon them, swords and staves and some with only their bare fists. They were easily sent from this world with a prayer courtesy of Leliana for their misguided souls.

It took them twenty minutes to find Brother Genitivi. It was Zevran who had found the false stone wall, entirely by accident though he of course claimed otherwise.

Genitivi was a strange old man. In fact, he almost reminded Jenji of her father in a way.

Jenji hated the snow. It wasn't really the thing itself, though she never had liked the cold much, it was what she associated it with. Winter in Denerim meant hard times for the Alienage. Food was even more scarce than usual, more firewood had to be gathered, finding work became nearly impossible, and if you did have a job it was that much more dangerous and miserable. There was rarely ever a family who hadn't lost a loved one by Spring.

She also didn't like hiking up steep hills while the winds blew snow and sleet sideways.

_This all better be worth it._

And it was, more or less. They finally came to the temple: Bitter cold, crawling with desperate cultists and…dragons? They were small ones anyway.

It seemed endless. Sure, not even she could deny the beauty of the ancient frozen place. Not even Morrigan could deny that. But that didn't mean she didn't want to be somewhere else right now.

But than they left the temple, as it gave way to cavernous halls and echoing roars. The archdemon itself probably, because if they went any further they'd end up in the Deep Roads.

Soon they found themselves traveling back uphill until the caverns opened up into a spacious room. Here they were greeted by even more of the hospitable cultists.

"You have slaughtered our brethren and our young. Now explain yourselves or you will join them!" the leader commanded.

"They attacked us first." Jenji said evenly. "We've only come here for the Ashes, nothing more."

"The Ashes, the Ashes, that's all they ever come for!" he snapped. "The Ashes must be destroyed so that Andraste can reach Her full potential."

"Andraste is dead. She is with the Maker now." Leliana told him, but he only laughed.

"Ah, but She is so much more than that." The cultist smiled. "All that is stopping Her from realizing this is those Ashes. If your only goal is to find them, than by all means take what you need. As long as they are destroyed, Andraste's blood will grant you great power."

Jenji didn't understand any of this. Yes, her only goal was the Ashes, but she had no intention of defiling them. Even if it didn't invoke the wrath of the Maker it was still so…unnecessary. Not to mention these cultists seemed crazier than, well than Flemeth.

At least these ones knew how to fight.

But not good enough, as it were.

The door led back out onto the mountain, sloping down until it came to another door. Relieved to be back outdoors again, fresh air and even the snow was wonderful. The Warden craned her neck and breathed deep, which was only a little painful; that's when she saw it.

The dragon flew over their heads, circling around aimlessly. Flames scorched the stones below until finally it came to rest a short distance – too short – from them.

Jenji held the horn in her hands, now realizing what it was for. This was no musical instrument.

"Wait, you're not actually going to summon it, are you?" Zevran seemed worried. "It just seems a bit…reckless. I mean, couldn't we just…sneak around it?"

"I'm sorry," the other elf said, "but I made a promise."

"You promised not to get eaten by a dragon." Alistair argued. "I think…antagonizing it isn't exactly the best way to do that."

She scanned the rest of her companions' faces. Morrigan was clearly uncaring, Wynne and Leliana simply stared at the ground, and Daveth, too, didn't appear to like the idea of provoking a dragon. It sounded mad, of course it did. It was a _dragon_ for heaven's sake! But it had to be done, if not her than someone else would have to slay it.

She brought the horn to her lips…

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The dragon fought ruthlessly. She knew that by the end of this they'd all owe Wynne their lives, more than they already did that is. Jenji spent most of the fight trying not to get hit by the beast's massive tail, and most of all not get eaten.

But thankfully the creature was dead. It was Alistair who had finally killed it. He was covered in blood. She looked around to survey the battlefield. Some were worse off than others but they'd survive—

_Harvey._

The Mabari was lying on his side in the snow. Upon closer inspection, Jenji could plainly see the singed fur and the broken pink flesh beneath it. He wasn't breathing.

"Wynne, come quickly!"

The healer was making her rounds, tending to the others. She rushed over to the hound's side at once, felt for his pulse and shook her head. Carefully she worked, but there was no blue light, no calming healing magic. Why? Why wasn't she healing him? Jenji wanted to ask but couldn't.

The Ashes, the Ashes could heal him. It was the only time she'd ever completely believed in their powers. This was her fault. She'd insisted they fight the dragon, and why? She didn't even remember anymore.

"I'm sorry," Wynne was saying, "he's gone."

Jenji wanted to run away. Why did this affect her so much? It was a dog. She'd lost more than that before.

They had to keep moving. That was it. They always had to keep moving.

….but why was Morrigan blocking her way?

"Jenji, you're injured." The Witch said firmly. There was blood in the snow – _her _blood - she felt…dizzy and…

"She is in shock." Morrigan,

"I knew she hadn't recovered enough to do this." Wynne,

"Fighting that dragon was a mistake." Zevran,

"O Maker…" Leliana,

"Jenny? Jenny, are you all right?" Daveth…

The elf opened her eyes and was met with concerned faces. Yes, she decided, she was just fine.

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"…Did you fail Shianni?"

Jenji couldn't believe she was hearing this. How could this 'Guardian' possibly know so much of her past? There must be some powerful magic at work here.

There was no reason she should have to answer such a question. And yet, the Warden found herself wondering if she had failed her cousin. Of course she had, there'd never been any doubt of that since her not-wedding day. Jenji hadn't been quick enough. It was her fault. All of it was her fault.

"…Yes…" _It should have been me._

Worthy pilgrim or not, she was going to find those Ashes.


	13. Faith

"_When you have come to the edge_

_Of all light that you know_

_And are about to drop off into the darkness_

_Of the unknown,_

_Faith is knowing_

_One of two things will happen:_

_There will be something solid to stand on or_

_You will be taught to fly."_

_- Patrick Overton_

"It could still be a coconut." Alistair protested.

"Oh yes, because that would have such religious significance." Morrigan replied sardonically.

Vengeance had been an easy one, the riddle rather obvious. Leliana's knowledge of Chantry history had helped them greatly to determine the other answers thus far; until they came to this. Jenji hadn't really been paying much attention to the morals of their stories.

"Jenji!"

"Hey don't look at me," the elf laughed. "I thought it was the plague."

Leliana cleared her throat. "The answer is a tune," she said.

And she was right, as always.

Next they came to the spirit of Shartan himself. Of all the spirits previous, this actually did interest the Warden to some degree.

"I'm neither a guest nor a trespasser be; in this place I belong, that belongs also to me." the spirit spoke.

"Home." Jenji answered softly, and this time there was no arguing.

The spirit of Shartan nodded. "It was my dream for the People to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and thus we followed Andraste, against the Imperium. But she was betrayed, and so were we."

And then, he too faded to nothing.

A trick of the mind, of this place, that's all the spirit was. But still a part of her hoped that he found peace.

They walked through the now empty room to the door opposite the one they had entered...

And Jenji froze.

"Hey," a voice she knew all too well greeted her. "Miss me?"

No, no this wasn't right. Why Shianni? Couldn't someone from one of the others' pasts come back to haunt them? Why did it always have to be Jenji who was tested?

They left her alone in the room with Shia-the spirit Shianni. Her real cousin was back in Denerim, in the Alienage; safe...hopefully.

"This isn't fair."

The other elf titled her head to the side. "What isn't?"

Jenji gestured to the spirit before her. "This," she said. "You - whatever you are - being here. It's not fair. Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

"I'm here because you deserve happiness," the not-Shianni told her. "No one blames you. Why can't you forgive yourself?"

The Warden didn't know what to say. And part of her wondered why, knowing that if the events of that day hadn't ever happened she wouldn't be here. Did that make it easier? No, not in the least. She liked traveling, and her new friends; what she was doing was important. She didn't regret a thing. She _was_ happy...and it shamed her.

"It's my fault."

"No, it's Vaughan's fault, and he is dead. You killed him."

"But I wasn't quick enough to save y-her."

"You did everything you could," the not-Shianni went on. "It was my sacrifice: I suffered so the other women wouldn't have to. I know you would have done the same in a heartbeat. I'm proud of you, Jen, we all are. You've made something of yourself, you're respected even among humans. It gives me hope, for all of us."

How dare she...

She had no right...

Jenji only realized she was crying when the not-Shianni already had her arms around her. And suddenly it didn't matter anymore if this was real: it was something.

"I love you, Cousin." the spirit whispered, her tone changed somehow.

"I love you, too."

The rest of the group finds her - alone - staring at her reflection in the highly polished and likely enchanted surface of an amulet.

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They all gazed down into the gaping pit. It wasn't terribly deep, but it would still hurt to fall into it. Morrigan took her foot off of the tile closest to her and the solid section of the bridge vanished instantly, causing Leliana to scream as she quickly drew her own foot away as not to step out onto thin air. The Witch chuckled.

Someone was going to have to walk across the bridge one piece at a time, which pretty much translated into who was going to fall in the hole. Jenji would gladly fight the copies of her party members a thousand times over than do that.

"I nominate Alistair." Morrigan said.

"Hey!"

"Then how about the bard?" she offered.

"Why me?"

"Well you do have more faith than any of us." Jenji pointed out, much to Leliana's dismay.

"I may be devout, but that does not mean I can walk on the air nor would I like to fall into a hole."

"Would it make you feel better if somebody went with you?"

"I still nominate Alistair."

"No one's nominated Jenji yet." the templar said as to divert the attention away from himself.

"That's because I'm far to important to lose," Jenji replied with a smile.

"Good point..."

They continued on that way until Wynne agreed to do it. However, the bickering had all been for nothing since apparently the Guardian had predicted their failure and so had some kind of magic that made Wynne reappear at the beginning of the bridge puzzle instead of falling and breaking her hip.

It still took them a good amount of time to figure out how to complete it. Andraste truly did favor the clever. But as it so happened, she also favored the stupid as well.

"Let me get this straight, you want us to...take off all our clothing and...walk through a wall of fire?" Alistair asked in disbelief.

Their leader shrugged. "That's what the riddle implies. I'm no more fond of the idea than you are, trust me."

"...I don't know if I should feel relieved or insulted by that."

_Magic_, Jenji thought as she stepped through the flames. _This place is brimming iwth magic, so it stands to reason that it's also a magical fire._

Reason...If reason meant anything she wouldn't be doing this. This went against all reason. There was absolutely nothing practical about any of this: they'd put themselves through rigorous test after test after test, jumped through hoops and over gaps, and for what? A pinch of ashes that may or may not have mythical healing powers.

And none of it mattered, because there they were. The Urn itself was beautiful, ancient and well tended to, so much so that the Ashes inside almost paled in contrast. Ignoring her companions' mixed reactions, she carefully filled the pouch Bann Teagan had provided with the divine dust.

Brother Genitivi was overjoyed to learn of their success. He left them, spouting off some nonsense about how the Urn must be shared with the world and such. Jenji really didn't care either way, though some credit for being the one to have found it would be nice.

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"So tomorrow we head back to Redcliffe." Alistair said as they made camp that night.

"No," Jenji didn't look up from cleaning her weapons.

"'No'? What you've had a change of heart or something?"

"No; but we're closer to Orzammar now so it follows that we should go there first." the elf explained.

"Oh does it now?" His voice was rising. "See, because I don't know if it's escaped your notice, but the Arl could be dead already. We need to bring those Ashes to Redcliffe immediately."

Not even the Sacred Ashes can cure the dead, he wanted to say.

"He's held on this long. Whatever that demon did seems to have stopped the poison's progression."

Oh why did she have to bring that up?

"Fine!" Alistair trudged off to his tent in defeat. Jenji thought it had gone better than expected. The elf put her blades aside and stared off into space.

The atmosphere surrounding the camp became very tense. "I'm reminded of a song I heard many years ago," Leliana announced, ignoring the resistance to what they all knew was coming. "It was...after my mother died, and this wise elven woman comforted me. She told me that we should not fear death, or hate it. Death is just another beginning, she said. It's a lovely sentiment, I think."

The bard proceeded to sing for them. These were Mamae's words, Jenji realized, waves of grief and nostalgia washing over her.

The song ended too soon. "I'm sorry...Have I upset you?" Leliana was concerned as Jenji stared at her through a veil of tears.

"No..." she said. "Just...memories."

"Oh." the Orlesian replied slowly. "Well...I mean, if you ever want to talk about it I..."

"Thank you, Leliana."

She shivered, even by the fire, and she was reminded of how much she hated the mountains and the snow and the cold in general. Daveth appeared out of nowhere with a blanket and sat down next to her.

He always did have a habit of being there when she needed him most.

"Rough day, huh?"

"Yeah..." And it wasn't just because she'd lost Harvey. It wasn't just because Mamae's death was more real to her right now than it had ever been. It was everything.

She moveed closer to him - _for warmth_, she tells herself - and it was there that she fell asleep...

Yet when she awakened in the middle of the night, startled by some nightmare, only find that she was alone and once again back in her own tent...Jenji was almost disappointed. _Almost..._


	14. Perspective

"_We are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine."_

Orzammar…

The city had once been the seat of power for the great Dwarven Empire, the heart of trade, and home to the best smiths in the world. Now it was one of the last cities of its kind. With the coming of the darkspawn rose a Paragon to stop them, but the creatures had already taken the majority of the Deep Roads, and thus they had to be sealed. Orzammar was forever cut off from the rest of the Empire. And still the darkspawn tested their defenses.

Since then the dwarves have been dwindling to the point where their race was in greater peril than the elves. But they were a proud people, determined to survive and cling to their traditions even if they were the very thing that was destroying them.

Of course, Jenji knew none of this, as history – especially dwarven history - was seldom if ever taught in the few years she'd been schooled by the Chantry. And when it was, it was the Chantry's version, which was worse, if you wanted the truth.

Not to say that she was completely ignorant on the subject however, she'd seen dwarves before – though mostly merchants and surface dwarves – and she knew they came from a city built underground that was threatened by darkspawn. She'd heard whispers of how ruthless their politics were; and that when it came to tradition, they were as immovable as the stone they so revered.

And sure enough, not a minute after she arrived, she was faced with a tough choice.

A weak king…

…Or a tyrant.

That was the choice she was given.

It was a choice she shouldn't be making. And simply because she was a Grey warden, it was one she would have to make. Both candidates would send troops to aid against the Blight if they were put on the throne, and nether of them trusted her enough yet to so much as speak with her.

It came down to what they wanted Jenji to do before they would be willing to show themselves. Either go into the Deep Roads and find some noble's patrol and purposefully ruin the reputation of Lord Harrowmont, persuading him to vote for Bhelen instead – she couldn't even know for sure if what the prince's puppet had instructed her to tell the man was even true – or she could fight as Harrowmont's champion in some sort of blood sport arena type thing.

_Harrowmont it is then._

The Proving was relatively easy to win, not to imply that her opponents were not all skilled warriors worthy of great honor, they simply weren't skilled enough to best Jenji and her party. After the battles were over she returned to Lord Harrowmont's estate where she was finally granted an audience.

"I apologize for making you go through all that," he said. "These days you just can't be certain who can be trusted. The city's in chaos, half the nobility supports me while the rest have been bribed by Bhelen. The lower castes only want whatever will guarantee them the most money, so they usually side with him on that point. Thank the Ancestors you showed up when you did."

"So; Bhelen wants changes made?" Jenji asked innocently.

"Yes, he cares nothing for tradition or his own kin. He wants more rights for the casteless, not to mention more surface trade among other things." Harrowmont replied. "But don't let him fool you, there's nothing that matters more to that man than power. His ideals may sound all well and good but mark my words the moment he takes the crown he'll forget all about them."

She began to think perhaps it was time to get a second opinion, maybe talk to some people around the Commons…

"Why do you say that?"

Lord Harrowmont spun for her a riveting tale of death and deceit. She thought he may even cry just for effect. But then, Jenji had to also consider the possibility that what he was telling her was in fact true. And if that were so and Bhelen was indeed the monster he was being made out to be, who would kill his own brother and blame the other sibling for the deed, then she certainly didn't want him on the throne, not if he was going to abuse his power.

Right…?

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Jenji never thought she'd see a place more dilapidated and filthy than the Alienage in her lifetime. She'd never seen a people as poor and desperate as Orzammar's casteless.

It was frightening and it made her feel almost guilty for where she came from, knowing that there were people out there who were worse off than she but never truly believing it until now.

Dust Town…that's what they called it, because in a world where stone is the nobility, these people were merely specs of dust.

"Well, it's not often old Nadezda sees someone as well off as yourself down here." The dwarf remarked from her spot on the ground. "I'd watch your pockets though if I were you, stranger. You don't have to worry about me or anything, but I can't say the same for the other Dusters."

"Know anything about the carta?"

"Know it? I lived it. That is, until a guard broke both my kneecaps, made me kneel in dung 'til the wounds festered. Never healed quite right after that, not good enough to fight anyway." The elf didn't have to ask why the guard would do that: to prove a point that she was worthless. The same reason a guard would kill an innocent elf in cold blood…

"I can tell you more about the carta," Nadezda was saying, "for a small price." The beggar flashed her a broken toothed smile, and Jenji handed over a few silvers.

"Thank you kindly, miss. Now where was I? Ah, Jarvia took over operations about a year ago. The purpose of the carta has always been the same: a hierarchy of crime that ultimately benefits the leader most, but she took that to whole new level."

"And where is she now?" The Warden quarried, earning another grin, and costing her a couple more silvers.

"There are several doors around the city, connecting tunnels where all Jarvia's followers scurry about like rats and do her bidding. The only way to access any of them is with a special token made out of a finger bone. I can't help you beyond that, since I don't got mine anymore, but good luck to you. The sooner someone teaches that bitch a lesson the better." They thanked Nadezda for her help and went off to find that token.

Jenji felt sorry for the casteless. Not only were they reduced to a life of crime, but also serving the whims of a terrifying mistress as well. They all got this look in their eyes, she noted, like they knew they were going to die.

She couldn't imagine that, not really. Life in the Alienage had been far from charmed but at least one could get a work as a servant or something. For the casteless, there was no such hope. It seemed their only options were begging – like old Nadezda, joining the carta – like those unfortunate souls Jarvia ruled over, or having some noble's child.

It certainly put things in perspective.

"Kill them! But leave the pretty one alive, I have plans for her…" Jarvia ordered. Not wanting to find out what those plans were, Jenji and her comrades charged forth. The carta leader and her thugs were exactly as tough as they looked, but luckily, so was she.

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After successfully tearing apart the carta from the inside out, they returned to Lord Harrowmont where they were given yet another seemingly impossible task.

The dwarves needed a Paragon, since apparently it was the only way to settle anything in Orzammar.

According to Harrowmont, Paragon Branka had disappeared on an expedition to the Deep Roads, along with her entire House a year ago. And if she was alive, her vote would be more than enough to convince the Assembly to settle on a successor.

Finding her, however, would be another matter entirely.

Jenji walked into the room they'd been staying in and tossed the map of the Deeps aside. The room was above Tapster's. Corra the hostess had been kind enough though and it was interesting to see Orzammar's middle class. Of course the tavern's customers still weren't very considerate of the fact that there were people trying to sleep up there.

Not that it made much of a difference these days.

"Can I ask a favor?" Jenji and Daveth were alone. The rest of their merry little group were out shopping or whatever it was they did when they weren't following her around and killing things.

"Of course,"

"…I need a haircut." She said after a moment. "I used to do it myself but it never turned out very good…"

He looked her over and seemed to consider the idea. Her hair was getting a bit too long. It made fighting difficult when it was always hanging in her eyes. Her tired and beautiful eyes…

"Why not have Leliana do it? She's certainly…enthusiastic about that kind of thing."

"Well, that's sort of the reason I'm asking…Leliana's great and all, but she's just…a little…" the other Warden searched for a word.

"Girly?" he offered one and Jenji nodded.

"So will you do it?"

Daveth agreed, and because there was no chair in the room that was not dwarven size, she opted to sit on the dusty stone floor instead.

He worked cautiously but efficiently, trimming away strands of black hair to reveal her lovely neck. He did the same for her bangs; she really did have beautiful eyes…

After it was done, Jenji suddenly remembered the golden mirror she had bought as a gift for Morrigan.

The elf was amazed.

"You like it?"

"I love it!" she laughed, turning to him with the brightest smile he'd ever seen. She did have such a marvelous smile…

Jenji felt ready to face the Deep Roads tomorrow, she felt like absolutely anything was possible, it was a strange feeling and then—

Lips…_his_ lips…were touching her lips. This couldn't be happening, it was wrong, it was too much, not right, it was…good…she liked it. No, no, she wasn't supposed to like it. That wasn't right either.

This was Daveth, her friend, her comrade…_hers_. It was wrong, and she didn't care. Lips…her lips now, she was kissing him back and she didn't know why.

She trusted him…he made her feel safe and happy and unafraid.

Did that mean she loved him?

"Consider this payment for a job well done," she said.

But they both knew it was more than that.


	15. Worry

"_It has been said that we need just three things in life: _

_Something to do, _

_Something to look forward to, _

_And someone to love."_

Somehow between the time they'd left their room at Tapster's, not knowing how long they'd be gone - it was the Deep Roads, after all - and the time they actually exited the tavern proper, it was with one more person than before. Normally Jenji didn't listen to drunken dwarves who offered to help fight darkspawn and brave the Deeps in search of a Paragon, but when had that ever happend anyway? Not to mention, he was Branka's husband and claimed to know something about where she may have gone that Harrowmont didn't.

They were really starting to develop a habit of collecting strays.

Oghren was the only one Branka hadn't taken with her on her mad expedition to find an ancient hunk of metal and lyrium apparently called 'the Anvil of the Void', and Jenji was beginning to see why. However, his skills in battle were almost as good as he made them out to be, and despite the smell he really was their best lead so far. And so they let him come along.

It was a decision she hoped she wouldn't regret.

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"I _hate_ giant spiders!"

She found it easy to lose track of time.

It wasn't just because of the fact that there was no separation of night and day, because darkspawn never slept. Speaking of darkspawn, that was another thing about being here that made Jenji's skin crawl: this was _their_ territory. She was a trespasser, unwelcome; and she knew it.

She thought they were making progress when they found Branka's camp, now inhabited by a dwarf who had lost his sanity after eating one too many genlock corpses. He wasn't just any dwarf though, he was someone's child: Jenji had met his mother back in Orzammar and promised to find him if she could.

The Warden didn't know what she would say. Whatever this was, it was not Filda's son. But she couldn't decide whether it would be worse to tell Filda that he was dead, because in a way it was the truth, and spare her the pain of seeing him like this...or...

"Ruck, your mother sent me to find you. I could tell her that you are here and she-"

"-No, you cannot! The mother remembers a child with bright eyes. Not this, tell her he is dead." Ruck pleaded. Yes, that was best for everyone.

The elf also thought they were making progress when they found Branka's journal. It spoke of a place called the Dead Trenches, and the full extent of her obsession. Jenji began to feel like she was following in the footsteps of a ghost. But what choice did she have? If it could help her find the Paragon, it was worth it.

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This felt too familiar.

They stood on a ridge, below them an army of darkspawn gathered, and at its head was the unmistakable form of the archdemon. It flew, with earsplitting cries and purple flames, rallying the beasts. All Jenji could think was what enormous teeth it had...

...And those eyes...

She stumbled backwards away from the cliff, heart pounding, she couldn't breathe, she could not stop shaking. Suddenly it was real. It was more real than all the nightmares in which the tainted dragon had destroyed her in as many ways as it could possibly think of, crushing her very spirit to dust. Army or no, the elf found it impossible to imagine facing that thing in combat...She was going to die, or worse the people who trusted her with their lives...Even as the darkspawn were led away the ringing in her ears did not cease.

Wynne called it a panic attack.

Jenji hardly remembered any of it. Daveth had to fill her in on the conversation later.

"But what if it saw us?"

"It didn't." He'd replied calmly.

"It could have..."

"But it didn't."

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_"First day they come and catch everyone..."_

This place...was far creepier than Haven.

Blood and innards lined the walls, fleshy sacks spilled their contents onto the floor. The hallway seemed endless...But always the same chilling voice laced the air. Jenji was sure it would haunt them forever.

_"Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate..."_

No one spoke a word.

_"Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn..."_

...And then they found her.

Her hands were bound and it was clear her mind had already gone. Hespith was suffering from a high fever, eyes glassy and soulless. The dwarf had been beaten; her skin was bruised and dying. She was delusional, convinced that what she was seeing wasn't real.

Jenji almost envied that.

"Wynne...is there anything you can do?"

The mage looked awfully pale, though so did Jenji for that matter. Wynne shook her head slightly and the elf sighed.

Hespith was more beast than woman now.

"What are they doing, Hespith?" Jenji asked softly.

"What they are allowed to do…What they think they must...What Branka thought she must…to survive. It was best for all of us, she said, we had to make sacrifices. But how do you endure that? How did she endure to watch as the men were killed and the women were...turned? There was nothing left in her but the Anvil. Nothing..."

Most of what Hespith told her was not very helpful. From what she could gather, Branka and this woman were at one point romantically involved, and Branka had done something unforgivable - like abandon her entire House to the darkspawn perhaps?

She'd have to put her faith in the words of a madwoman, because there was nothing else.

_"She became obsessed, that is the word but it is not strong enough...and Laryn...They made her in their image, and she made more of them...Broodmother."_

It was nearly as terrifying as the archdemon.

And Maker, it just would not die.

By the end, they were covered in gore and bits of tentacles. So this was how darkspawn were made: corrupting the women so they could give birth to hordes of the creatures. It was utterly disturbing, how alike and yet completely different they were from normal men and women, distorted reflections. And no one was spared, the darkspawn didn't care what race you were. The Blight had to be stopped. If Loghain saw this…he might just reconsider if the Wardens were needed.

"...But the true abomination...is not that it occurred...but that it was _allowed_...Branka...my love...The Stone has punished me, dream friend. I am dying of something worse than death. _Betrayal._"

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Branka was...just lovely.

...Not really.

Jenji supposed this is what all Paragons were like, they couldn't really be compared to human nobility or even dwarven nobility for that matter; they were revered as gods incarnated.

Branka would be a goddess of war.

She cared little for the people she had used to get this far, and least of all who got the throne. So maybe she was doing this for the sake of her people's lost glory, anything that could help to defeat the darkspawn was worth fighting for in Jenji's opinion; but at what point did the ends no longer justify the means?

Here Jenji was, standing before two Paragons, the creator of the Anvil begging her to destory it because he knew the pain it caused. It had cost Caradin his mortal body, forcing him to become as the stone; stone and metal and lyrium. She needed a Paragon, but it had never been said it could not be a different one than who they were all expecting.

"You are an elf. Your people were slaves once. Surely you can't wish that kind of torture upon anyone." The golem tried to persuade.

"Your people have also lost their home - _twice_ - to the very humans who enslaved them. Wouldn't you give anything to be able to take revenge on them and what's rightfully yours?"

"This isn't about me," the Warden said. "Branka, I'm sorry, but I cannot in good conscience allow this. No one should ever have that much power. Not the darkspawn, or the humans, or even the elves, and not you. Who's to say it won't fall into the wrong hands again? Or what if the new king doesn't want you turning his people into stone?"

"No! I've lost too much to see it destroyed now!" the dwarf yelled. "I'd sooner die before I let you lay so much as a hand on the Anvil!"

Jenji had hoped it wouldn't have to come to that.

"Branka, listen to yerself!" Oghren commanded. "Sometimes people need ta be kept from doin' stupid things...I just never thought you'd be one of 'em."

"You know nothing of me Oghren, you never did." she hissed. "I am your Paragon, and I _will_ have what is mine!"

But sometimes you don't get what you hope for.

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Oghren seemed to be adjusting to the surface pretty well. He'd been quiet since they left the Assembly - thankfully with the treaty fulfilled by Harrowmont - and he had been drinking a lot more, even for him, since they'd made camp for the night. Alcohol was said to give one a false sense of warmth which must be nice in the mountains especially for someone who had spent their whole life underground where rivers of molten rock were not an unusual sight.

Though she suspected there was another reason.

"Are you all right with what happened?"

The dwarf looked confused for a second. "Wha...? Oh, sure. It'd been a long time comin' anyway. Don't know what's a bigger blow ta my pride though, that she left me for a woman or that she left me for an anvil."

"So..." the Warden didn't really know what to make of that. "You're not upset at all?"

"Upset?" Oghren scoffed. "I don't get upset, I get drunk." He proceeded to demonstrate.

"It doesn't work, you know," she remarked, looking away. "I have a cousin who tried that. It doesn't work."

"Yeah well, I'm not some sodding elf who can't hold my ale."

Jenji snorted. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? Did you make Branka crazier than a nug with its tail cut off? Did you tell 'er to take our whole House chasin' after a big piece o' metal?"

"Well no but I-"

"-then there's nothin' ta apologize for."

The elf sighed. "I just wish things could have ended better..." she murmured.

"Well they didn't. The way I see it, ya got yerself two options. Ya can either have a drink with me, or keep on wishin'."

Jenji half smiled. "I can't do both then?"

"Naaah. Wishin' is what stars are for, right? I don't like lookin' at 'em, they're too sodding bright!" he complained. "Now, ale's for forgetin'. Much more useful, don't ya think?"

Now she did smile. "I think I'll pass for now. But thank you, Oghren."

"Suit yerself." Oghren raised his own mug in the air anyway. "Ta the Grey Wardens, 'specially the pretty ones, who are nice enough ta take in a drunk old sod like me!"

"It's what we do."

After a while she thought it was time to retire to her tent for the night, as the others had already done so, save for Zevran who was on watch. Expecting him to at very least make a joke about offering his company, she moved quickly and avoided eye contact. But to her surprise he said nothing; which was good, considering Daveth was waiting for her.

"Hey, Warden!" It was Oghren who called after her.

"Yes?"

"Where we headed ta anyway?"

"Redcliffe," she answered. They had an arl to bring back from the brink of death.

"Hmm..." the dwarf actually seemed to consider his words. "Do ya think we could...look somebody up for me on the way? See, there's this woman I know here on the surface . . ."

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"I have a question," she said out of the blue that night. "What happens now? I mean, do we have to…get married or something?"

Daveth looked at her and smiled. "Not if you don't want to," he replied. "But I think we should probably wait to discuss that until after we kill the archdemon."

"I'm sorry," Jenji blushed. "It's just...I don't really have any experience with this sort of thing. A few months ago I was supposed to marry a stranger. What does that tell you?"

"Why don't we just focus on staying alive for now? Hopefully the rest will just work itself out."

Jenji stared at him. "How do you do that?" she asked slowly.

"Do what?"

"You know, how do you...not let anything bother you?"

Daveth shrugged. "You take what you can get, right? Ideally we'll stop the Blight and live happily ever after, but until then why worry about it?"

"It didn't work out that way for Oghren..." the elf mused.

"But you're not crazy and I'm not drunk, so I don't think that really counts."

"I hope you're right." she said. "Wynne was saying some things today about how, as Grey Wardens, we have a responsibility to put everyone else ahead of ourselves or something. I'm not used to living that way, I'm not sure I ever want to be. But then she called me a child and I started thinking that she may be right and I guess, I don't know, I panicked."

He took her hand. "We can't all live up to Wynne's high standards. See, she's an idealist, and she expects everyone around her to act accordingly. I bet you she wouldn't last a day as a Warden, no offense of course, it's just that she needs to understand that we're people, too."

Jenji blinked. "Well you're just full of wisdom today, aren't you?" she said, yawning.

"Oh I'm sorry," he teased. "Am I boring you?"

"No, of course not," the elf laughed. "I'm just tired."

She put aside the worries of the day and let the Fade claim her.


	16. Secrets

**A/N:** I know, I've been getting chapters up really fast. It's mostly because it's too hot here to sleep and I'm bored the majority of the time. Just bear with me and please review!

)O(

"_Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence."_

Jenji felt very much out of place.

It wasn't just that she was standing in Arl Eamon's bedroom, clearly intruding on what should be a touching family moment. And the only reason she was here at all was because it was she who had found the Ashes in the first place.

They all held their breath, praying that the Ashes would work.

It was the first time she'd gotten a good look at the man. He was older than she had expected, especially considering how young the Arlessa was. The Orlesian knelt at her husband's side in silent prayer. Bann Teagan stood next to her looking about as uncomfortable as Jenji herself. Alistair remained a respectful distance from the Arl's bedside, his expression unreadable.

When at last the Arl did wake they were all ushered out of the room, told to wait downstairs until he had been brought up to speed on everything that had happened since he'd fallen ill and was ready to discuss their next move.

"This proves nothing." It was Morrigan who broke the silence.

"How can you say that?" Leliana gasped. "You saw the Ashes' power with your very eyes! If not Andraste, then how do you explain what just happened?"

"_Magic._" The Witch stated.

"Is that your answer for everything?"

"No, but there was enough lyrium in that place to buy out the whole of Orzammar. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if that so-called 'Guardian' wasn't just some demon who got a kick out of putting gullible adventures through pointless tests all in pursuit of some magic dust—"

"—Shut up!"

"How else would he have known that you _made up_ your vision?" Morrigan was testing her. For what purpose, Jenji could only guess.

"I…" Leliana's voice almost lost its former rage. "How dare you!"

"How dare I what? Are you admitting your precious faith cannot stand when presented with reason?" The Witch pretended to be sad about this. "We do not live in a world of fantasies, Leliana, and if you believe otherwise then _I_ feel sorry for _you_."

The bard opened her mouth but the retort died on her tongue when Arl Eamon descended the stairs assisted by Lady Isolde, and Bann Teagan following closely.

He stared into the fire for a long time before turning to them, his eyes filled with grief but masked with determination. "Who killed my boy?" he asked, his voice betraying the mask of confidence. "Which one of you was it?"

Alistair took it upon himself to answer. "The man who...I…he's gone. He was a qunari." _Who murdered an entire family;_ "There was a disagreement over whether we should seek Andraste's Ashes and he tried to harm our leader," he gestured to her. "I wanted there to be another way….but…the Circle was dealing with a de—a problem, and the only other option w—"

"Alistair," the noble sighed, holding up a hand to silence him. "I know you did everything you could."

"You can't possibly believe this, Eamon!" The Arlessa was close to tears. "All he has ever done is bring trouble, and now he allows your only son die out of jealousy and you just forgive him—"

"—Isolde!" Eamon snapped. "Do not speak that way. Alistair is our only chance of bringing Loghain to justice. He is _Ferelden's_ only chance."

_What?_

"I'm sorry," Jenji spoke up, "but…why exactly is Alistair so…vital? No offence it's just kind of…"

"None taken," Alistair assured her.

"You haven't told them?" the Arl was taken aback. "Alistair, how could you keep it a secret all this time?"

"Keep _what_ a secret?"

"Well, I-I was going to..." the templar started to explain.

"I intend to put Alistair on the throne." Arl Eamon said.

_What? But that didn't make sense…That would mean that Alistair…No._

"Don't get mad, but…my father was King Maric." Jenji's expression was a mixture of shock and anger. "You know what? Why don't we just start over? Hi, my name is Alistair. I'm a Grey Warden and a bastard prince."

She couldn't believe he was saying this. Of all the stupid things she'd ever heard come out of his mouth this…this was just a new level of complete idiocy. 'Don't be mad' what a joke. How could she not be mad? He'd waited this long to tell her something that had monumental importance. What if he had died fighting that dragon instead of being the one to kill it? Where would they be then?

Helpless, that's where.

The elf stormed off, not stopping to catch her breath until she was back upstairs. Why did this keep happening?

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He was thrilled that the Arl had recovered, even if Alistair did still find it difficult to meet the man's eyes after what he had allowed to happen to Connor…

…But no time to think about that now. He was _not_ thrilled with the idea of becoming king. Eamon filled his head with all this talk of duty and honor and responsibility that he had when Alistair was a boy, the same ideas Wynne made absolutely sure he understood.

And yes, there was a time to deal with that later. He would still not want to be king then, but right now his duty was to _her_. His duty was to make sure she didn't hate him.

Leaving the others to discuss the Landsmeet and make plans that involved him but that they were perfectly fine with talking about without him present, Alistair headed upstairs. He was remembering the last time he'd climbed this staircase, the same feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach…

He knocked a few times before letting himself in, thankful that the door was not locked because unlike _some people_ he couldn't pick locks.

At first he didn't see her. That is until he caught sight of the figure slumped over in the corner. She was trembling.

"I know you're there, Alistair." That voice sounded off somehow, soft and calm yet everything but. Jenji looked up, her face pale.

"Are you…I mean, a-are you okay?"

"…No…" she said a little too simply. "How could you not have told me?" And he had a feeling that her question had nothing to do with whether or not she was okay.

"You never asked…?" Idiotic smile, but she attempted to glare at him and it was enough to get the point across. He launched into a sad story about how people always treat him differently after they find out, and oh! How horrible it is to be Alistair!

But it was true, and she wasn't buying it. Not that he could blame her. She didn't understand, and he wouldn't buy it either in her position.

"I just thought you trusted me." She said, and he wanted to tell her that it had absolutely nothing to do with trust, and that he trusted her with not only his life but—

She probably wouldn't believe it anyway.

"I _do_ trust you," Oh well, he couldn't think of anything else to say when someone feels betrayed by something he did or didn't tell them.

"Alistair," there was a distinct warning tone in the woman's voice. "I have told you every miserable little detail about my past, every Maker forsaken thing. It's not _what_ you kept from me, it's that - for whatever reason - you didn't think I needed to know…"

"But I did think you needed to know!" He protested. "There was just never a good time to say, 'hey, guess what? I'm the product of a one night stand between a maid and a man who just happened to be king.' How well do you think _that_ would have gone over?"

"Arl Eamon doesn't seem to think you're too much of a bastard to take the throne." Jenji remarked, and he knew that it was partially meant as a joke because of the thin smile on her lips.

"Yeah, well, he says it's my duty. Eamon knows I don't want to be king but he seems to have this notion that I'll just suddenly turn into Maric the minute the crown's on my head and send the darkspawn running in some sort of epic battle for glory."

_Sounds more like Cailan actually._

The other Warden snorted. "I'd like to see that. Still, I couldn't think about strategy right now even if I wanted to. I can't promise that you won't end up king though."

Jenji swayed slightly as she got to her feet, leaning on the wall for support. She remained there; eyes closed, and took several deep breaths before she remembered Alistair was still there.

"Are you—"

"—I'm fine," she cut him off, waving a hand dismissively.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get Wynne or…?" He wanted to be sure Jenji was really as fine as she said because if she wasn't then they all suffered. Selfish reason, but it was true.

"I'm fine," the elf repeated a little harshly this time. But who was she trying to convince?

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Jenji wouldn't be able to hide this much longer.

She knew she would have to tell Wynne or Daveth or – _Maker_ – Alistair…just someone! What if it happened in the middle of battle? She could die. No, that was the kind of thinking that started it. It wasn't even the fear of the attacks themselves, but that they would find out she was weak, like Sten had.

And Alistair had to run after her, thinking she was actually _that_ upset with him. And yes, she _was_ mad, but not _that_ mad.

Now they would leave for Denerim tomorrow, and when Jenji had said 'I can't promise you won't end up king' she'd pretty much meant 'Yes, sorry, but you will end up king'.

It was breaking her heart to know that she wasn't being fair to Daveth. He'd been nothing but understanding, in his way, and…well, everything she loved most about him. Yet she just lies there breathing, unable to tell him all the things she'd kept locked up inside because the very prospect of it scared her half to death.

How do you tell the one you love that you're going crazy?

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On the way to Denerim, someone tried to kill them.

That alone was a typical occurrence, if they weren't professionals. Sure, it had happened once, but an assassination attempt was just rare enough to still raise an eyebrow.

This time, however, it wasn't a Grey Warden thing…it was a bard thing.

Leliana wanted to let her assassin go. Jenji wouldn't have even let him live if it weren't for looking like a hypocrite, so she allowed the Orlesian to decide.

"It's Marjolaine, I'm sure of it." Leliana said very seriously. Marjolaine her ex-mentor in all things bard related, Marjolaine her ex-lover. Marjolaine had tried to have her killed, even after two years, almost three now. Two years Leliana had been at Lothering's chantry, living the quiet life of a cloistered Sister.

"But I don't understand how she found me, or why she suddenly wants revenge now. What could have changed?"

"She probably always knew," Jenji told her. "And as for the abrupt change of heart…" The elf just shrugged.

"If she's in Denerim, then can we confront her when we get there?" the bard asked meekly. "I need to settle this once and for all."

The Warden nodded. But first, they had one more stop to make. Sometimes you meet someone and you're first impression is 'the knowledge that one day you are going to kill them' as Zevran put it. And that was exactly the impression Jenji had gotten about Flemeth.

"Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids, or does the tale take a different turn?"

The elf knew the old Witch was just being manipulative, Morrigan had learned form the best after all; but she was powerful…

"We know your little secret," Jenji narrowed her eyes.

"Ah, but what about a secret of our own…?" Flemeth suggested. "If Morrigan wants my grimoire, then take it as a trophy. Tell her I am dead. It will be interesting to see what she does with her freedom."

_Survival…_

"And how am I supposed to trust you?"

"How do you trust her?" The old Witch wondered. "We have both saved your life in more ways than you know, if that is not trust then I do not know what is."

"No, you don't. Morrigan is my friend."

Flemeth sighed. "All right, Warden. You wish to dance with the likes of me? It is a dance old Flemeth knew quite well. Let us see if she remembers the steps..."

And suddenly, they were fighting yet another dragon. But at least this time they knew they could win: it was a dance Jenji had learned, too.


	17. Lessons

"_Change is the end result of all true learning."_

Jenji had learned a lot of things.

She'd slain dragons, demons, a broodmother – which she knew now was worse than all of them combined. She had amassed an army against the forces of darkspawn, recovered a sacred relic thought to be lost forever. She'd learned not to eat anything Alistair cooked, and never to mention shoes to Leliana unless they had a lot of spare time.

And yet now, sitting at the Arl's table, she was at a loss.

Six forks – all made out of the finest silverite. There were six forks, three knives, two spoons; and oh yeah; six forks! All spread out in front of her, each one with its own use, and Jenji hadn't the faintest idea what that use was.

For the love of the Fade, there weren't even that many different foods on her plate!

She looked over at Morrigan, who was eating how ever she damn well pleased because frankly the Witch had given up trying to be a part of or even understanding human society a long time ago.

Alistair was seated to Arl Eamon's right – much to the Arlessa's displeasure who had refused to join them for the meal. He of course had his Chantry raised etiquette, and thus knew what each fork was for, as did Leliana, having specialized in the art of blending in.

Jenji glanced over to her left to see Daveth just as baffled as she was. His hand would hover in the air over one fork for a moment before moving on, the system really didn't have much thought behind it. Jenji shut her eyes and pointed to one at random. Silently they agreed that was the fork they would use, that way they could be embarrassed together.

And to think, she'd had half a mind to eat with the servants. At least then the cutlery was simple and straightforward.

The Arl's estate, while a bit smaller than the castle, was still very lavish and it was awkward for her to be so close to her home yet living in such luxury and having elves serve her.

Speaking of, an elf came running into the dining hall, pursued by a guard. She was dressed nicer than most servants, yet still kept her eyes lowered.

"Your Grace, please hear me out!" She spoke with an Orlesian accent.

"You cannot interrupt the Arl and his guests!" The guard growled, taking her arm roughly. But before he could drag her away Arl Eamon had stood up.

"Let us at least hear what is so urgent." He said. The elf's arm was freed and she thanked the Arl. "You are dismissed," he told the guard.

"My name is Erlina. I am Queen Anora's handmaiden, sent here to get help." The elf explained. "My Lady is being held prisoner by Arl Howe." Ah, Howe: the man of many titles, the man who had closed off the Alienage.

"Does her father not know?" Arl Eamon asked. _Trap_, he was thinking, Jenji could see it on his features.

Erlina chewed her lip. "My Lady…has seen her father's treachery. She says he has changed and that he cannot know of her capture." Erlina's voice became frantic. "B-but they could kill her, your Grace! She instructed me to find the Wardens, the resistance, she said."

The Arl called them all into his study to discuss how they should proceed.

"I don't trust her." He said. "This could very well be a trap."

Morrigan agreed.

"I don't know...Anora is the queen…" Alistair hesitated.

The Witch glared. "And if she hasn't truly betrayed daddy dearest?"

"Let me talk to Erlina." Jenji requested. "If she's hiding something, I'll find out what it is."

The Orlesian was sitting stiffly in a chair, staring at her hands and looking very worried. Jenji took the seat across from her.

"Can you rescue my Lady?"

"First I need you to tell me everything you know about what's happened." Jenji said. Erlina's shoulders tensed.

"You don't trust me." She stated. "I understand. I am both elven and Orlesian: no one trusts me here, and why should they?"

"What do you mean?"

"I…" she chose her words carefully. "The reason I could not go to the authorities on behalf of my Lady is because…Arl Howe has gained much power very quickly. He has become an evil little man...and he would have me deported if I did!" Tears welled up in her eyes. "I just simply cannot go back!"

"Erlina, look at me." Jenji grasped the other elf's hand. "I won't let that happen; I promise. Now is there anything else you can tell me?"

"I came to Ferelden in search of honest work. Now I have the privilege of serving her Majesty. But I was not always just a servant, and I am not strictly my Lady's handmaiden."

"You were a bard." Jenji almost sighed.

Erlina nodded. "It is why my Lady sent me. I can help you to free her." Any meekness in her tone was gone. "You may no longer wish to play the Game but you never forget how, and you certainly never forget the rules."

Jenji knew that. She'd learned that from their showdown with Marjolaine. Again, Leliana had been determined to love her enemy, allowing her to walk out with only her word that she would not return; the word of a spy.

And still Leliana had needed reassurance that she would not become like her former mentor. But of course she was not Marjolaine: she had proven that through her forgiveness.

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Jenji politely refused the disguises Erlina offered. For one, they weren't nearly as nice as the armor she already had. And while maybe it was a bit more practical to sneak in; she had done this before. Jenji had slaughtered every guard in that damn place once, and she would do it again.

She had to see that room where they'd likely had elves scrubbing Nola's blood from the tiles for days…

And she had to revisit the place where they'd found Shianni…

The elf led them down into the dungeon. The air here was thinner and colder. They encountered a man, a Grey Warden. He had also been tortured, and Riordan left them to finish what they had come here to do.

And then…

"Ah, Grey Wardens, is it? Very fitting that Eamon would send you: the last of nothing." Howe sneered.

"Let's just get this over with, okay?" Jenji's tone was one of dull rage and weariness. "I don't know you, but I do know that you're responsible for what's happening in the Alienage; I know you're working with Loghain, and I have it on good authority that you're an evil little man. That's enough for me to want you dead."

"Loghain has no idea what I am capable of. While he's been preoccupied with Blights and imaginary Orlesian invasions, I have been securing everything I have always deserved. And as for the elves, well…they also got what they deserve."

In an instant, Howe was pinned against the wall, Jenji's white-knuckled hand clamped on his throat. She hissed something only he could hear, choking the life out of him while the rest of her party took out the two mages and any remaining guards.

Arl Howe's body went limp, the light draining from his eyes. She watched it dance and bleed away until the world became still again.

"By the Stone, woman," Oghren exclaimed. "Ya sure yer not a berserker?"

They rescued Queen Anora – who could have been a little more grateful – only to be confronted by more of Loghain's soldiers.

"Grey Wardens, you are hereby under arrest for the murder of Arl Rendon Howe. Surrender and we can avoid further bloodshed."

_That bitch_. How else could anyone have found out about this so quickly unless the queen had double crossed them? Explaining the situation would do no good now, and Jenji had been in Fort Drakon enough times to know it wasn't pleasant. That left one option: resistance.

"Death first!"

The battle was challenging, but they prevail because they must. And again Jenji had never been happier to leave the bloody estate.

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Anora wanted to speak with her, and it wasn't to thank the Warden for saving her life, it was to secure her crown.

"…You will be seen as supporting the best interests of Ferelden, instead of solely those of the Grey Wardens."

"But I _do_ support the best interests of solely the Grey Wardens."

"…Oh, I…see."

"And by doing so I _am_ supporting Ferelden. If the Wardens aren't strong, this nation is defenseless in the threat of a Blight. And right now, there are only four of us."

"And that is exactly why you will need Alistair. He will be too important to risk if he is to be king." Anora pointed out. "Let us also not forget that he has had no prior experience in politics or leadership, especially on such a massive scale. Just because he is of royal blood—"

"—Don't make this about blood. I will be the first to tell you that it makes no difference. I know people who have taken in children and loved them as their own, so don't you speak to me of blood. It is not even a factor." Jenji snapped. "And yes, Alistair doesn't want to be king and he's not a leader. But he is honest and just and loyal. He is something you will never be."

"I see you are very passionate about this." The queen observed.

"Not at all, in fact I don't give a damn about your politics, but if it's something I must do in order to stop the Blight than I'm going to at least do it well." The elf said.

"And you are certain there is nothing I can say that will make you reconsider?" Anora was getting desperate, desperate for power that is.

"You have been Ferelden's queen for what? Five years now?"

"…Yes."

"And it's common knowledge that in that time you were the one running the country behind the scenes. So I must ask, your Majesty, what exactly have you done for the elves?"

"Well I…" Queen Anora picked her nails nervously. Never in a million years had she imagined the conversation would go like this.

"That's what I thought. And honestly, Anora, I don't think you've ever thought about anyone but yourself, but I won't fault you on that. You see what you want and you take it no matter the cost. It's admirable to some degree."

The Warden had left her with a compliment, so why did it feel like a defeat on the queen's part?

Jenji scowled, quite pleased with herself. It may not be the Game of Orlesian politics, or the contest for honor of the dwarves, but it was something. This was her country, even if it had never done anything for her. As a Warden, it was Jenji's duty to go wherever she was needed and right now she was needed here. It wasn't her job to get involved in things like this, and frankly the elf didn't really want to, but Ferelden would have to have a ruler if they were to unite against the darkspawn. And wouldn't it be convenient if that ruler just happened to be a Warden?

Everything was finally starting to come together again.


	18. Family

**A/N:** This is a short sort of pre-Landsmeet chapter. I'd like to thank you all for your reviews, they really make my day! Merci pour la lecture!

)O(

_"Other things may change us, but we start and end with family."_

This was going well.

"Goldanna, Alistair came here hoping to find his family."

Jenji couldn't believe this bitter woman was his sister, half-sister actually. And she could tell Alistair was hurt by how quick the topic of money came up. He was gong to be king, and Goldanna wanted to get everything she could out of it.

"Well, he found it. But what good does that do me? I'm still gonna go ta bed hungry tonight, as are his nieces and nephews. I don't know you, boy, and unless you can help with some of them riches o' yours than you ain't no use to me."

And of course Alistair wanted to do everything he could; too shocked to realize his own sister was taking advantage of him. Jenji understood that: if a prince had walked into the Alienage one day and claimed to be related to her she would have asked what was in it for her, too. But Alistair wasn't king yet, and he wasn't raised a prince, just a gentleman.

"Can we spare anything for Goldanna and the children?" He asked her, almost begging her; and if there weren't children involved Jenji would have said 'no'.

"We can spare some coin for the children." She said.

"What about me?" Goldanna demanded. "I'm his sister!"

"Then I suggest you start acting like it."

"And just who are you to judge me?" She questioned. "Some elf servant ta carry around all his gold?" _I am no one's servant._

But before she could respond Alistair spoke up. "You can't talk to her like that!" Jenji had never heard that aggressive tone in his voice before. "She is my friend, and a Grey Warden just like me."

"Well ain't that nice," Goldanna folded her arms. "A prince and a Grey Warden, too. I suppose I should feel honored you be even talkin' ta the likes of me."

"I didn't mean..."

"No, you made it perfectly clear, I think. Listen, boy, I thought you was dead. And frankly my life was a lot easier thinkin' that. You is still dead ta me."

When they were back outside, Alistair allowed himself to breathe again.

"That was...not what I expected. She's...I honestly don't know what to say."

"That's what happens when people get desperate," Jenji explained. "Everyone's out for themselves, you know."

"Maybe..."

"But hey, listen...you don't need her, okay? Family's not about who you're related to. It's about being there for each other no matter what." The elf smiled. "We're a family."

"Yeah, I guess we are, at that."

"And you know what would make you feel better," she continued, "is meeting my family."

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It had been nearly a year since Jenji had left home for what she assumed to be the final time. Since then, it seemed little had changed.

They passed a rabid dog lying dead in the street.

_Eyes forward_, she told herself, _deep breaths_...

They drew closer to the vhenadahl where it looked like the whole Alienage was gathered. Shianni was at the front of the crowd, her voice the loudest; and there were humans - mages and soldiers - no doubt there to cause trouble.

"Oh great, and now I'm seeing things." Shianni sighed as her eyes found Jenji.

For whatever reason, this made her smile. "Miss me?"

The other elf's eyes widened. "So it really is you...? We heard about Ostagar, a few of us who had gone to be servants and messengers there managed to escape. They said there were no survivors...but I knew it couldn't be true. And then we heard rumors of Wardens who were rallying mages, and dwarves; have you really met the Dalish?"

Jenji nodded. "Who are those men?"

"Tevinter 'healers'. There's a plague, but there's always a plague isn't there? There's has always been sickness. They set up a quarantine, but that's just it, Cousin, those who go in don't come back out. And most of the people they take aren't even sick." Shianni shook with fury.

"Don't worry, I'll find out what's going on."

"They took your father." Jenji froze, fear and anger coursing through her veins, "And Valora, too. Neither of them had the plague."

That was it: these men had to die.

The plan was simple.

First, Jenji would pretend to be ill and gain entrance to the hospice, careful to conceal her daggers lest they be taken from her which would be bad.

Then Zevran, Leliana, and Daveth would sneak around to the back door while the others dealt with the 'healers' and their guards. This would give Jenji plenty of time to kill the ones inside the hospice and free the...caged elves?

She found a pile of gold coins, documents, and ledgers with dates going back weeks. Shipments, estimated arrival times, profits, percentage of deaths and what it meant for business. No names though; just numbers.

It made her sick.

They spoke with a traumatized elf who described it all in detail. Men, women, and children…all were taken from their beds and dragged down the hall. 'Like a parade, but silent' he said.

And indeed, the state of the apartments reflected his words: Bloodstains and broken furniture, half-packed bags as if someone had thought about leaving but just wasn't quick enough.

Slavers; and one of them was an elf.

But eventually they found the man behind it all. A powerful Tevinter mage, blood mage really, who is stupid enough to try and make her a deal. But all Jenji's saw were the cages behind him, elves held onto the bars. _Like caged rabbits..._

And the mage wasn't even offering her money, but a piece of paper that somehow made it appear to be Loghain's fault. She had more than enough proof of what was being allowed to take place here and he knew it. So when he surrenders he makes her a new deal that would involve killing the remaining elves for some kind of blood magic ritual for her benefit. How stupid did he think she was?

He seemed to fear being left at the mercy of the elves more than he feared death.

And then he simply asked for his freedom. No more no less. But Jenji wasn't even willing to give him that after he so easily denied her kin theirs. He would not get away with his life this time; he deserved nothing less.

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This blade had been her mother's.

Not only that, but it had also been used to defend the Dales, then being passed down through Mamae's clan until it became hers.

"She would have wanted you to have it," Cyrion was saying. Jenji forced back the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes.

It was good to be home.

They stayed for hours, eating and drinking and regaling everyone with tales of their adventures. Soris especially enjoyed that part. Any feeling Jenji might have had that she had abandoned them all when she was Conscripted disappeared, replaced by mirth and contentment. _This is family_, she thought.

By the end of the evening Jenji was staggering back to the Arl's estate. When they were halfway there she decided her feet were tired and (very loudly) refused to continue unless Daveth carried the elf the rest of the way, which he did.

"But I'm not tired!" Jenji whined, sitting up in bed with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Yes you are," Daveth replied, removing her boots for her.

"No, you're just a-a…a mean person!"

He laughed. "You are _so_ drunk."

"I am not!"

It took almost half an hour for her to finally admit that she was both very drunk and very tired. Good thing too, because he couldn't think of any more stories.

"New will you go to sleep? You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"Mmmhmm..." The elf was quiet for a moment. "Daveth...?"

"Yes?"

"What about my kiss?"

Oh Maker, how he loved this woman.


	19. Politics

_"No person has ever sat upon the throne of Ferelden without first winning the approval of the Bannorn. Queen Fionne, who had the misfortune to take the throne in the eighteenth year of the Steel Age, wrote of the Bannorn, 'There have been three wars this year fought over elopements. Five fought over wool. And one started by an apple tree. It isn't even winter yet. Who would believe that these same banns, now trying so hard to kill one another, just last year united to give me the crown?'"_

_- Ferelden: Folklore and History, by Sister Petrine, Chantry scholar_

Daveth drew nearer to the bed, careful not to disturb the mass of blankets. Or more specifically, the elf curled up under them.

"Go away!" The muffled voice took him off guard. How did she _always_ know? Even when he was being as sneaky as he possibly could, she still always knew he was there.

"But if I do you'll miss out on the surprise."

"I don't care!"

"I promise it'll make you feel better."

"Fine, but I'm warning you: my skull feels like it's about to explode and I hate everything right now. I may have to kill you."

He tried not to laugh, knowing that would likely seal his fate. "Noted," he said.

She emerged from beneath the covers like a butterfly from its cocoon. She was beautiful, even though her hair was a tangled mess and she really did look like she wanted to kill him.

"What is it?" Jenny asked curtly, and he remembered why he'd come here in the first place. Daveth showed her what he had brought and her expression changed. "Is that...?"

"Ms. Kay's Magical Chicken Soup," he confirmed. "I was told it could cure anything, and it seemed a lot better than Oghren's suggestion of more ale."

After she'd finished the soup Jenny began to feel a little better. The Landsmeet was today, and it would require her full concentration. Obviously she was dreading it.

"I just have a bad feeling about this whole thing," she said.

"Well, you are putting Alistair forward as king, so I'd say that's understandable."

Jenny nearly smiled. "I certainly can't put Anora on the throne now. Not after what I said. I do seem to be earning some powerful enemies though, don't I?"

The Landsmeet was set to begin in just a few hours. She would have to face those powerful enemies. And, because she was Jenny, she would make them regret ever crossing her.

It was still probably wise to wear armor though, just in case.

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The hours went by too swiftly and before she knew it they were on their way to the palace. Eamon and Loghain and all the nobles were already assembled. They were late.

They encountered some of Zevran's old Crow friends. Jenji wasn't going to hold him to an oath. She didn't think she needed to. And so when the assassins were all reduced to a bloody pulp and he asked for his freedom, she was more than a bit surprised when he walked away. Zevran wasn't about to stand around and watch the woman he knew he couldn't have love someone else.

Jenji could feel her headache start to come back. Why did Loghain have to yell? Apparently he was one of those people who thought that louder equaled more convincing. She could barely even focus on what he was saying, something about Orlais and how he could unite Ferelden and overcome the Blight without the Wardens' help.

"Are you quite done?" Jenji asked. "The Blight is the problem here, not Orlais, and neither of us will defeat it on our own. But only a Warden can slay the archdemon."

"And what proof do you have of this?"

"She is correct." Riordan stepped forward. "If history has taught us anything it is that a Blight has never been ended by one who was not a Grey Warden. The first Blight lasted nearly a hundred years, and in that time many tried and succeeded in slaying the archdemon, but it always returned more powerful than before until a Warden did the deed."

"We can't even be sure this is a true Blight," the Teyrn argued. "There has been not one sighting of an archdemon-"

"-That is not true." Jenji interrupted. "I have seen the dragon with my own eyes, as have those that follow me. It was in the Deep Roads with an army of darkspawn the likes of which you have never seen. And it was headed for the surface."

There was murmuring from the nobles.

"How convenient," Loghain remarked. "This coming from the woman who's kidnapped my daughter."

"You wish to speak of kidnapping?" The Warden challenged. "All right, how about the innocents tortured by Arl Howe-"

"-the man you murdered-"

"-Bann Sighard's son, Owyn; Ser Irminric, Bann Alfstanna's brother; and poor Rexel who lost his very mind to the darkspawn at Ostagar." Jenji continued. "And on a related note, I'm guessing the elves didn't like being sold into slavery much, just ask my father."

Arl Eamon held up the documents she'd found for all to see.

"Howe's crimes were his own, and so was his death. That does not change the fact that after murdering him and his guards you resisted arrest, killing my most trusted knight. One wonders if Ferelden truly wants someone so prone to violence who believes herself above the law at the head of its armies."

"And just what would you do if you were being apprehended by such a biased party? It didn't matter what I said, had I gone peacefully I would be a corpse rotting in Fort Drakon right now." The Warden went on. "But I must go back to my previous statement. Slavery is illegal in Ferelden, yet you allowed the Alienage elves - who are believe it or not technically citizens of this nation - to be taken from their homes and thrown onto Tevinter bound ships." Jenji knew she would regret this. "That is my home, Loghain, those are my people. Don't you dare speak to me of believing _I_ am above the law."

"He did many things without my knowledge, Warden. I was quite busy helping our newly widowed queen keep the country together under the threat of darkspawn and civil war."

"How convenient," Jenji muttered. _Don't mention Ostagar, don't mention Ostagar; you have no proof!_

"But speaking of the Alienage; I understand it Howe's death was not the first noble you've slaughtered in his home. Tell me - tell all of us in fact - how exactly _did_ you become a Grey Warden?"

"You don't have to answer that," Alistair whispered.

"There was _nothing_ noble about that man."

"Sorry I'm late," came a new voice. All eyes turned to see Queen Anora walk in, the very picture grace and elegance with just a spark of evil. "My lords and ladies, I beg you, do not listen to these Wardens. They have betrayed us once before, and they shall do it again. I have the utmost confidence in my father's ability to command my armies and eradicate the darkspawn."

"Lies!"

Anora turned around to face her handmaiden.

"Erlina, what is the meaning of this?" The queen demanded.

"I'm sorry, my Lady, but I must tell the truth." The elf told her. "Queen Anora was indeed captured by Arl Howe. I was given orders to find the remaining Grey Wardens and partition them for assistance in rescuing her. She could not tell Teyrn Loghain because she had witnessed his treachery and when the Wardens denied her the crown in favor of King Maric's only living heir, she changed her story in support of her father."

There were even more whispers from the crowd.

"So you would believe this _Orlesian_ elfling over your own queen?" Loghain asked angrily, sensing that he was losing the people's trust. "I should have you all convicted of treason!"

"The Landsmeet has heard enough!" The Grand Cleric announced. "The representatives of the Noble Houses of Ferelden will now vote on whom they would rather pledge allegiance: Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir of Gwaren, or the Grey Wardens."

The nobles voted almost unanimously in favor of the Wardens.

Loghain didn't take it very well at all.

"Traitors," he spat. "All of you are traitors! Where were you when the Orlesians burned your crops and raped your wives? I have bled for this nation, and I will not see it crumble because of some elven bitch and her puppet of a prince!" _And you said I was pretty_, Jenji thought.

"Call off your men, Loghain," she spoke calmly. "We don't have to fight."

"I disagree," Alistair said through gritted teeth. And why should she stop him? This was never her fight. Loghain was to Alistair as Vaughan was to her. She knew that now, and all who had stood in her way of killing him had died along with him.

"Very well, little prince," Loghain complied. "Let us see if you are truly worthy of the Theirin name."

The fight was all a blur of steel and silver, the fire and passion in Alistair's eyes driving his sword. They were almost evenly matched, at least in terms of skill and stubbornness. But Alistair was younger just a touch lighter on his feet. This gave him an edge, and in the end was the primary reason for his victory.

"I yield..." the Teyrn said weakly. "It appears you have some of Maric in you after all."

"Forget Maric; this is about Duncan."

"Ah, do you honestly think he would approve? So much death and yet you focus on that of a man who was a day from going to the Deep Roads anyway. I'm appalled, really. Cailan was your brother."

"And he was your daughter's husband, your late best friend's son. Maker, he was your king! Just what would Maric say if he knew what you had done at Ostagar?"

Loghain was silent a time, still on his knees. Jenji noticed there were spots of blood on his ridiculously shiny armor where Alistair's blade had struck true.

"...Maric would have understood."

"Understood what?" Alistair challenged, "Regicide?"

"He knew the importance of putting the greater good above all else; the lives of many over the life of one, even a king. There is no glory on a battlefield, Cailan never understood that. I'd made that mistake once and I was not about to do it again. A choice had to be made, if you've never had to make a tough decision than you have no right to judge me. There is nothing that I would not do for my homeland."

Jenji wondered if she was the only one who had absolutely no idea what the Teyrn was talking about.

"You will pay for your crimes, Loghain Mac Tir." Alistair stated.

"No, you cannot!" It was Anora. Loghain looked at her with something like weariness in his eyes.

"Hush, Anora..." he breathed.

"Stop treating me like a child, Father. This is serious: he is going to kill you!" She said it as if he didn't understand.

"Daughters never grow up, Anora. They remain six-years-old with pig tails and skinned knees...forever."

"Father..."

"Go on, your Highness, kill me." He looked directly into Alistair's eyes. "You will only be killing a man."

And the sword fell.

Jenji wondered why they weren't voting on who should rule like they did when it was her against Loghain. Maybe because she had won that vote...Oh, whatever. She'd given up attempting to understand politics a long time ago.

Alistair was - reluctantly - crowned king, and Anora - after refusing to swear fealty to the man who had killed her father and cost her the throne - was imprisoned until further notice. Should Alistair fall in a Blight-related incident, Anora would become queen by default.

Jenji was exhausted.

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Later that night she went to see how Ferelden's new king was handling the idea of...being Ferelden's new king.

"The resemblance really is striking, you know, between you and Cailan." The elf remarked. "Look, I'm sorry-"

"Don't, please." Alistair sighed. "It's just been kind of a stressful day, yeah? I mean, it's like one minute I'm a Grey Warden and I'm happy, and then Loghain's dead and I'm really happy, and then...I'm king. Huh...I'm king, aren't I?"

"Yep,"

"And I don't want to be king."

"That is what you've been saying, yes."

"I just want you to know that I'm not mad or anything. I know you just did what you had to, you always have. It's not your fault that I'm a bastard and Anora's a bitch."

They both laughed.

"I was talking to Shianni yesterday," Alistair said in an effort to change the subject, "and she mentioned something about a wedding...The only reason I ask is because, well, you've never talked about it before and with what Loghain said..."

This was the very last thing Jenji wanted to talk about right now.

"We all join the Wardens for different reasons, most of them pretty unpleasant. Mine was...one such reason."

"Well, if you don't want to..."

She shook her head. "You deserve to know."

And so she told him everything. About Nelaros, and Vaughan...About Nola; and Shianni...She told him how she and Soris had painted the Arl of Denerim's estate with blood, and that she had admitted as much to the garrison, claiming she acted alone. And she told him Duncan had Conscripted her, thus saving her life.

When Alistair was through apologizing and feeling badly for what a terrible life she'd had, he said, "So why didn't you tell me this before?"

"You never asked...?" He didn't like having his own words thrown back at him, especially when he knew that he should have. "I guess for the same reason you didn't tell me about your birthright. People treat me differently when they find out. Wynne, Duncan, Cailan, even Daveth."

"You told them and you didn't tell me?"

"There was never really a good time," she explained, mocking him.

"I get it, I get it."

Jenji smiled because she was able to make him smile.

"So as long as we're being completely honest," he went on. "There's something I should tell you."

"You're the queen of Antiva?"

"Oh that's funny. No...it's about the Grey Wardens. I should have said something a long time ago..."

"What is it?" Jenji asked seriously.

Alistair looked terribly flustered. "See, the thing is...Do you want the bad news or the...other bad news first?" She just stared at him. "All right, here it is...You see, it's virtually impossible for Grey Wardens to have children."

The elf blinked. "Oh."

It wasn't something she'd thought about often before becoming a Grey Warden. She'd always figured that eventually she'd have to have a child, elves were a race in decline and it was her duty to not only her race but her family and community. Now knowing that it was likely never going to happen - especially with two Wardens - she found herself wanting what she couldn't have.

"What's the other bad news?"

Alistair sighed. "Are you sure you don't want to do this another time?"

"Alistair, we're gathering our forces to battle the archdemon. We leave for Redcliffe tomorrow. Whatever it is, I need to know now, or there may not be another time." She said firmly.

"You're right, okay...Um, look, just don't hit me-"

"—Alistair…"

"You have thirty years to live." He blurted out.

"Twenty-nine," the elf corrected.

"Huh?"

"It's been a year since I've become a Grey Warden, so I have twenty-nine years to live."

"And you're...just...okay with that?" He asked in disbelief.

"Didn't you hear a word I said? I was about to be arrested and when Howe was made the new arl of Denerim I probably would have ended up dead in his dungeon anyway, or if not then either died of the plague or shipped off to Tevinter. The Joining could have killed me, or the dragon we fought; any sodding darkspawn for that matter. We're all going to die, Alistair. If this past year has taught me anything it's that we have to make the most of the time we have."

He was utterly speechless.

"But I do have one question," the woman added. "Does Daveth know?"

Alistair shook his head.

That wasn't so bad though, because when she had said 'this past year' she had really meant 'Daveth'.


	20. Selfishness

**A/N:** Here it is, for your enjoyment: an extremely short and fluffy chapter right before our unlikely heroes meet their destinies.

)O(

"_Peace demands the most heroic labor and the most difficult sacrifice. It demands greater heroism than war. It demands greater fidelity to the truth and a much more perfect purity of conscience."_

_- Thomas Merton_

It seemed fate had decreed Redcliffe would not survive the Blight.

This time it wasn't undead; it was darkspawn.

The whole village had been reduced to a pile of rubble. Those who had managed to live through it were now held up in the castle which thankfully remained clear of any darkspawn. Some worried if it would be safe to stay there, but Jenji had a feeling that it was. The attack on Redcliffe was a warning, nothing more.

The archdemon was headed for Denerim. The most densely populated city in Ferelden, _her_ city, and it was going to be in an even worse state than Redcliffe, causing the deaths of her friends and family and countless others. She wondered how anyone could possibly make such a grave error; it was a _dragon_ for the Makers's sake, how hard could it be to keep track of?

But that didn't matter, because the fact was the archdemon was moving in the opposite direction. It had been coming for them...and soon enough they would have to march to the capital with all their allies and slay the beast in one great blaze of glory...

It was the stuff of fairytales.

And now Riordan wanted to see them, apparently to deliver some more terrible news.

"You already know that a Warden is needed to end a Blight, but do you know exactly why that is?"

She didn't. "I assume it has something to do with the taint in our blood."

"Precisely," he confirmed. "When an archdemon is slain, its soul if you will finds the closest vessel and is thus reborn. A darkspawn is one such vessel, soulless and without a mind of its own, but a Grey Warden is not. Therefore the Warden to slay the creature absorbs its soul along with his or her own...and both are destroyed."

"So not only is it fatal," Jenji said slowly, "but are very soul is..." She couldn't say it. She hardly believed it. The concept felt so surreal, like a boundless void of black space would swallow her up at any second and this would all have been a dream.

"Since I am the eldest I will take the final blow, but should I fail before I have the chance then the task falls to one of you." He looked at the ground. "I am...sorry you had to find out like this. I had hoped Duncan would have already told you. Now you know the burden of ending the Blight."

_And somehow I didn't think this cuold get any worse._

Jenji didn't say what they were all thinking. Alistair was going to be king which automatically made his life significantly more valuable. That would leave either herself or Daveth...just like a fairytale, or a tragedy.

She went to her room knowing perfectly well that she would not be able to sleep. The elf almost drew her daggers when she realized she was not aone.

"Do not be alarmed, 'tis only I."

Ah, Morrigan.

"What do you want?"

"Blunt, aren't we? Very well, I shall make it quick." The Witch motioned for her to close the door. "I know what happens when the archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed...and that sacrifice could be you." Was that..._emotion_ in her voice? "I have come to tell you that this does not have to be."

_Oh?_

"What do you propose?" There was a very good chance she'd regret asking that.

It was selfish. That is what it all came down to. Either she sacrificed herself for the greater good, or persuade either Alistair or Daveth to...lay with Morrigan. Supposedly the ritual would conceive a child which would serve as a beacon for the archdemon's soul. No one would have to die, but she would still have to live with the consequences.

"Alistair will soon be king - heavens help us - so unfortunately he must live." The Witch reasoned. "We both know what that means."

She did...

Even if Jenji didn't trust Flemeth's magic.

There was a thin line between sacrifice and suicide.

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"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do it's just...you're asking me to...don the velvet hat with Morrigan!" Alistair paced about the room, trying desperately not to meet her gaze. "I mean, why me?"

_Selfish._

"Do you want me to lie to you?" She asked. "I could say that this has nothing to do with you becoming king, I could say that I have no problem throwing myself at the archdemon tomorrow, or that there's a reason I'm not asking Daveth that isn't entirely selfish.

"It just doesn't seem...right."

"Right?" She could feel the anger rising. "Alistair, what's right about any of this? It's all relative. The things we have had to do for this nation...I just want this. I just want to live. Please, Alistair, I know it isn't fair and I know it isn't fair to ask you to do this but...I trust Morrigan, and she is offering me a way out, for all the Grey Wardens." She took a shuddering breath and her tone dropped to a whisper. "There's been so much death this past year. It follows us, I can feel it...I'm not as strong as you are, or as selfless, I just want to survive."

He sighed. "Let's get this over with before I change my mind."

Morrigan was waiting for them.

"Ah, the prince, is it? Figures," she remarked.

"Promise me something," Alistair began. "I want you to promise that this...bastard child of mine isn't going to show up some year and threaten the Crown."

The Witch scoffed. "That, I can promise. I have no interest in your monarchy."

Not that it made him any more comfortable with this.

Morrigan turned and walked off, and Alistair followed like a condemned prisoner to his execution. Why did this feel so wrong? Everything Jenji believed in told her it was the best course of action: survival at any cost.

Sacrifice or suicide...

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Jenji stared at the fire, as she often did when nothing made sense. The ritual hadn't taken long, but Alistair still looked as if this was it was the single worst thing he'd ever done. She'd have to make it up to him someday, after this was all over.

No matter how much she mentally prepared, the thought alone was enough to worry her. The fact that tomorrow they'd go from here to the Circle Tower, gather what few mages they had, and meet the Dalish at the edge of the Brecillian Forest. The dwarven forces had arrived days earlier.

From there they would march to Denerim to face an army of darkspawn with only a handful of allies. And then...Jenji didn't know. She was supposed to, she was their leader, and everyone was depending on her.

"You're brooding again." At first she barely registered Daveth's voice. How did he _always_ know?

"I am not," the elf attempted. "Fine, but can you blame me? I don't want to die tomorrow, Daveth." _Maker, I'm just so tired…_

"I'd be a bit worried if you did," he replied. "But I know something that might take your mind off it."

"Some ale?"

"No..." Suddenly he was holding out a ring to her, a modest sort of ring, simple but elegant in its way. And then he asked, "Marry me?"

He was joking, he had to be joking. They could both die and here he was...proposing! What was he thinking? There were a million things she wanted to say at that moment but al Jenji could manage was-

"What brought this on?"

He looked at her strangely. "Well, I love you, and I'm pretty damn sure you love me, yes?" She nodded. "Now let's say the arcdemon doesn't kill us and Morrigan's ritual thing actually works. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Jenny, even if that's just tonight."

If she was going to make one selfish decision then why not another? That night, she tossed Nelaros' ring into the fire. It was time to let go of the past. Here was a man who loved her for all that she was, even when she didn't. At very least she could try to be what they all believed a Warden was supposed to.

And for the sake of her sanity, Jenji would have to be a little selfish about it.


	21. Survival

**A/N:** Well folks, it all comes down to this. The point of no return. Please review!

)O(

_"In war, victory._

_In peace, vigilance._

_In death, sacrifice."_

The march was long and cold. They were cutting it awfully close, to the point where they were practically marching alongside the darkspawn.

They stopped before the city gates. She could already hear the screams...

Jenji turned to face her charges, everyone was looking at her expectantly, like she was supposed to give a speech or something. The look on Alistair's face alone said, 'I'm just their king, you're their leader.' She should have prepared for this.

"I am a Grey Warden," Jenji started, "but I am more than that: I am also a citizen of Denerim. My family is trapped inside these walls. We are not just fighting to take back our city and our country today. We are fighting for our families, our children, spouses, parents; cousins. The Grey Wardens have a sort of motto, 'In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.' So let's avenge the lives taken at Ostagar...We lost more than a king that day. Whatever it takes..." They didn't have time for speeches. "Whatever it takes!"

Apparently it sounded better than it did in her head, because everyone cheered. The darkspawn fell by mere force of will. Jenji cut through every creature that stood in her way. They reached the gates, Riordan was waiting for them.

He explained the situation: they had to kill the archdemon's Generals. Then somehow they would corner the dragon on the roof of Fort Drakon. This was suicide. "Nothing you have done has prepared you for what you face now." Riordan told them. _Except maybe the other dragons we've slain. No, not even that._

Jenji chose to take Morrigan, Wynne, and Oghren with her into the heart of the city. They waited patiently while the others said what they had to, knowing that it could very well be their last chance.

"I hate my blood," Alistair said. "I'd much rather be where you are right now."

"I know." She smiled. "Don't worry, I'll kick the archdemon's ass for you."

"Thanks." Then he sighed and looked at the ground. "I just want you to know...that even though I haven't always agreed with, well, most of your decisions...we couldn't have done it without you. So...no matter how this thing ends, thank you, for everything."

"Even for making you king and-"

"-Don't push it."

Jenji grinned.

"Well, Alistair, you can thank me after we win."

She knew him: he was the type of person who needed to believe in something. And right now Alistair needed to believe in the very slim chance that everything would go exactly according to plan and that someday this would all be immortalized in heroic tales and the verses of some old drinking song.

They'd all laugh about it later.

Leliana hugged her so tight Jenji started to think that she was trying to strangle her. The Orlesian was babbling about fate and destiny and the ballad she was going write.

Parting ways with Daveth, however, was not so simple.

"Look, I just can't risk you doing something stupid." She said, placing the ring in his hand. "Just hold onto that for me, okay? If you lose it, I will kill you." Lies...

_..._Lips.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"You know I can't do that." She would not make a promise that likely could not be kept, even if she'd be dead.

Jenji led her chosen companions onward, ushered forth by the cheers of soldiers and civilians alike. When had she become the symbol for hope?

They fought their way through what could only really be described as a pack of ogres in the market district. Denerim was in flames, the scent of death unmistakable in the smoke filled air. Soldiers split their time between fighting and throwing darkspawn corpses on the fire, lest their tainted blood spread and corrupt everything around it.

They reached the Alienage. Shianni and the other elves were trying to keep the darkspawn from breaking through the gates, which was ultimately unsuccessful. Jenji begged her cousin to get to safety but she refused. _Damn stubborn Shianni..._

"No, Cousin. This time I will fight."

The hurlock had some of the most powerful magic Jenji had ever seen. The battle felt like it took hours, the tainted dragon itself even graced them with a brief appearance. The palace, the halls of Fort Drakon, it all became a blur...until they found themselves on the roof.

A wounded archdemon sat, expecting them. Riordan had been so close, but it wasn't enough. And now he was dead and the beast was looking at her with those eyes...those penetrating eyes. Mages, dwarves, Dalish elves, and of course Eamon's knights all surrounded the creature. Men and women cried out to their various gods or ancestors, all praying that this thing would just die.

_Hello, Urthemiel._

Flames, dust, flesh and blood...and metal. She was ready. She would not let fear get the best of her this time. Fear wasn't helpful, fear had never been helpful before.

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This was just great.

Not only did he not get to fight the archdemon, but he was also expected to lead them in defending the gates because he was going to be their king.

Alistair hated life sometimes. It just wasn't fair.

Jenji would laugh at him right now...Oh Maker, here he was feeling sorry for himself when he didn't even know if she still lived. Waves of darkspawn descended upon them from every direction and all he could think about was how none of them were as good as the archdemon.

Here he was, sulking, while Ferelden citizens fought and died for their cause. And he knew this must be a million times worse for Daveth, the fate of the world resting in the hands of the woman he loved.

But Alistair was still a Grey Warden; he should be up there on top of Fort Drakon with her. Though it was satisfying to knock down genlocks with Duncan's shield...

Maker, he hoped she was okay.

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It had nearly taken an eternity, but the archdemon was slowing, noticeably so. Jenji was down to only a few of Arl Eamon's knights and just three mages, one of whom wasn't doing very well at all. The exertion of healing was starting to take its told on Wynne. They didn't have much time.

This was it, the past year of her life all boiled down to this very second. She had dreamed of this moment - mostly in nightmares - she had to be ready. There were no excuses, no exceptions; no time.

The dragon was practically begging her for release from its massive form, though she'd fallen for that one before. It had been blinded by arrows, its flesh burnt and frozen and cut away until it was left to lay in a pile of its own scales. The beast looked so vulnerable. Not that Jenji was going to be fooled by that.

**_Warden..._**

It wasn't really a voice as much as it was the feeling that she was being spoken to. It was in her mind, her blood, barely distinguishable from her own thoughts, which was the most frightening part. The sound the dragon made was pained, a weak growl.

_Urthemiel..._

_**We all know what happens next, Warden. Just give us peace.**_

_You won't be dead, you know, you will be a child._

_**It is...preferable to this.**_

_And what about survival?_

_**We know when we have lost**_.

She rushed forward, the Fang of Fen'Harel in hand, and then...nothing. Light, Morrigan nods and she too is gone. Darkness, not even darkness, but blackness. There was nothing, no sound, no feeling. The world fell out from beneath her like a false floor and she thinks this is what death must be like. She was dying. Shianni's words echoed in her mind, _'They'll write legends about you someday. When the world was at its darkest, there you came, fire in your eyes like something out of a storybook._'

"...We're losing her...!"

_No..._

She shouldn't...couldn't...be dying. This was wrong. Had she been lied to? Had the Witch used her?

Jenji wanted to fight it, she really did, but the Fade was pulling her down...farther than she'd ever hoped to go.

_At least there will be no more nightmares._

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The palace was the largest and generally the most intact structure in Denerim, so naturally it became the headquarters of the rebuilding effort. The wounded were healed here, and refugees whose homes had been destroyed were given safe haven until they could be temporarily relocated, but not even the palace could accommodate and care for everyone who needed it. In all the chaos, Ferelden had forgotten that someone would need to be left to tend to the wreckage, burn the dead, and most importantly to reconstruct what was lost.

True, the city was in ruins, but those were just things and far less vital than lives.

Of course, the royal suite was occupied by the one they were now referring to as the Hero of Ferelden. Not that she'd been conscious to realize it.

The first thing Jenji became aware of was the bizarre fact that she was alive. And secondly, she couldn't move.

This was particularly alarming and enough to make her panic, but then she rationalized that it was likely done on purpose, and for good reason, as there was no pain.

She figured it was evening or perhaps very early in the morning, since the room was dark save for the haunting blood red glow streaming in from a nearby window that should have been broken. The Blighted clouds had yet to burn off, but that didn't necessarily mean Jenji hadn't slept long. There were dead flowers in a vase beside the bed, roses once, maybe. For a long time, at a loss for what else to do, Jenji lies there and just counts the ceiling tiles.

One, two, three, four...

With the archdemon dead...what else was there?

...five, six, seven...

Someone was coming.

The footsteps quickened and soon the door was gingerly pushed open. Jenji tried to get a good look at the woman. She was an elf, her skirts were torn, and she could definitely use some rest. And then it struck her.

"Erlina?" Jenji's voice did not sound like her own.

The Orlesian nearly fell over in a hastened attempt to curtsy. "Oh! My Lady, forgive me, but I did not know...That is, I-I was not expecting-"

"Erlina," the other elf said firmly. "I am not your lady, I am no one's lady. Understood?"

"Y-yes, but...you saved me from being sent back to Orlais, you rescued my-Anora, and you killed that horrible little man so that he may never hurt anyone ever again."

"And you repaid me at the Landsmeet."

"But you have slain the archdemon!" The other elf exclaimed. "You have saved us all!"

She couldn't argue that.

Erlina had been released from Anora's service after the former queen was imprisoned, she had made it clear who's side she was on, after all. Even though it had been difficult for her to leave her lady's side, there was just something about the woman that reminded her too much of Orlesian nobility; a life she had worked hard to forget or at very least to leave behind. And it was the last thing her lady wished of her.

So, alone and without a purpose, Erlina seemed to have chosen Jenji in much the same way that a Mabari hound imprints on its master.

Jenji gathered that she had been asleep for just over a day, due to exhaustion more than anything else. Ferelden was still struggling to pick up the pieces, but she knew that soon they would have questions, like exactly how it was she survived slaying the archdemon. But there was no sense in worrying about something that was so far off, right?

For now, Jenji simply smiled down at the ring on her finger, content in the knowledge that the fight was over.


	22. Epilogue

**A/N:** First, I want to thank all my readers - even those who haven't reviewed - and I want you to know that I have really enjoyed writing this story. You have all been so wonderful and I cannot possibly express how much it means to me.

Now, I've been considering continuing this tale into Awakening, but I'm still unsure. So if anyone would like me to do so just let me know.

Again, merci à tous!

)O(

_"Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever; a happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story."_

It was over.

Eamon wanted to have the coronation as soon as possible, despite the current state of the city. And of course Jenji would be expected to attend, mostly for the sake of appearances, but she also wanted to support Alistair. It felt a little less awkward being here, in the palace, surrounded by adoring nobles who owed her their lives. For a blessed while though the focus wasn't on her at all, instead all eyes remained on their new king.

Alistair would make a good king, there was no doubt of that. He would have Eamon and Wynne to guide him, and Jenji had no wish to remain at Court. For the first time in a long time, she felt like herself again, and she wasn't about to squander it.

Jenji was made to stand on the dais beside the king. He thanked her for her service, and even offered to make her Bann of the Alienage. Whoever heard of such a thing? It was a nice gesture, but truth be told she found herself for the first time in her life honestly not wanting a reward. She had a better idea. Jenji knew someone who was much more deserving of the title.

The way Alistair addressed her though you'd think they hadn't spent the last year traveling across Ferelden together. He had to do certain things for appearances too, but it was still a bit unsettling.

The king asked her then what her plans were now that everything was said and done. Jenji didn't want to say that she hadn't thought about it, but she really _hadn't_ thought about it until now. And so she said the one thing she knew was certain.

"Well, I'm going to get married and then...who knows?"

There it was, the first crack in Alistair's kingly facade. He permitted himself a smile, only slightly taken aback by the news. Jenji found her father in the crowd who was also smiling, tears in his eyes. And she could tell it was taking all Daveth's strength not to run up and kiss her right then.

She wasn't really enjoying her new found fame. For one, it was impossible to get through the streets without an armed guard to move things along. She hoped everything would settle down as time wore on and the land was slowly put back together. But with all the statues being built in honor of her, people wouldn't be forgetting any time soon. Jenji became the symbol of hope for the future.

She had had many titles: Grey Warden, Champion of Redcliffe, Dark Wolf of Denerim, but Hero of Ferelden was by far the strangest.

Fort Drakon was in the process of being converted into a museum dedicated to the history and preservation of the Grey Wardens. It wasn't difficult to do, since there was little that remained to elude to the fact that it has once been a prison. Mostly out of respect for those who had died there, it just didn't seem right. People flocked from beyond Ferelden's borders to see the spot where the archdemon had fallen. Not to mention the Arling of Amaranthine had also been granted to the Wardens so that they might rebuild the order, in the wake of Howe's demise, the snake that he was.

And the good news didn't stop there either; the unoccupied Arl of Denerim's estate had been burned to the ground during the Battle.

Jenji made her way through the streets, all cloak and dagger since that was the only she could travel nowadays. Finally she reached the Alienage. Like everywhere else in Ferelden, it was still reeling from the effects of the Blight. But the Tree of the People stood virtually unscathed, as if protected by some force of magic.

She hated that she had to be so careful now, even here. Most of the Alienage practically worshiped her; she'd killed the archdemon, freed the slaves, she was to them as Andraste was to the humans. And yet, there was a small fraction of the elven community that resented her status and wealth.

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"So I guess this makes me a bann then." Shianni observed, finding the idea almost laughable. Absently, she traced a finger along the rim of her glass.

"I guess it does."

They drank to the dead, the living, and the promise of things to come.

"I'm going to be strong for you, Cousin." There it was, that fire in Shianni's eyes...

"Just be yourself," the Warden half-smiled. "You've kept the Alienage together since Valendrian's been gone. I'd say that more than qualifies you."

"To be their elder maybe, but an elf has never held a title of such significence before."

That was true, elves weren't granted such honor, it just wasn't done. The only time an elf was ever allowed anywhere near a noble was if it was to serve them or...to serve them.

"And how significant do you think 'Hero of Ferelden' is?" Jenji pointed out. But then, elves had slain archdemons before. "You're not alone, and if I cared anything for politics I probably would have accepted when they offered me the position, but I know you can do it."

"I can," Shianni declared. "I'll make you proud, I swear it."

"You already have," she handed Shianni an amulet. On the front was the Chantry's symbol. The other elf looked up to ask what it was for but Jenji was already turning to leave.

"If you ever doubt yourself," she explained, as if sensing the question.

Shianni turned the trinket over in her hands idly. The back was mirrored, but instead of seeing her own image reflected, she saw only her cousin's encouraging smile. And she smiled back.

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"She's beautiful," Jenji remarked as she cradled the newborn.

"Ain't she? Four days old I reckon. Found her by the river, just wrapped up in a quilt, cryin' her little eyes out, she was. Saddest sight I ever did see." Ms. Kay said. "I swear, most folk have the decency ta leave their unwanted babes on the chantry steps. I just don't know what's happenin' ta the world anymore."

"Dark times; the Blight's over but even so..." the elf trailed off before changing the subject. "Did you hear the templars finished clearing the demons out of the orphanage? Apparently the Veil's still too thin, or that's what they say."

"Yeah, I heard." The old woman was quiet for a moment. "I haven't named her yet, you know."

"Oh? Well she's an elf," Jenji observed, tracing the tiny point at the tip of the infant's ear. It did explain why she was so small and fragile, besides the fact that she was abandoned for Maker only knows how long.

"That she is," Kay smiled. "You want her?"

Daveth hadn't been paying much attention, but at her words both he and Jenji looked up sharpy, then at each other.

"Are you serious?" she gasped.

"Why not?"

Sure, Ms. Kay had quite a few babes already, and the only reason her house was still standing is because she'd provided the children with kitchen knives during the battle. This was just...all happening way too fast. They'd only been married a few months - Chantry wedding, for appearances - and even though she knew their chances of having a child of their own were slim...

Jenji doubted a lot of things.

She doubted if they were ready for this.

She doubted if she would be a good mother.

"I think we should do it."

"Daveth I...I'm not sure..."

"And I think we should name her Adaia."

_Oh._

"That's a wonderful idea," Ms. Kay said.

It seemed her mind had been made up for her. Cyrion always had wanted grandchildren someday, imagine his surprise when he found out, and the infant was beautiful...

It wasn't a decision to take lightly, like getting married or allowing yet another armed lunatic to follow you around on a quest of great importance, but something about this just felt...right.

The battle was over, and Jenji took this as something of a new beginning.


End file.
